


Rebuild

by SpringFire1994



Series: Rebuild, Reform, Restart [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Disorder, Blangst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Language, M/M, Nightmares, Not Klaine Friendly, Not Kurt Friendly, Post - Blaine and the Pips comment, Post Sadie Hawkins Attack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, There will be a ship but not sure which yet, hopefully happy ending, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 115,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpringFire1994/pseuds/SpringFire1994
Summary: Sleep was escaping him.His alarm clock was telling him that he needed to get up in four hours, and he’d still not managed to feel even remotely drowsy. He was always edgy close to competition, but this was the first time in a while, he’d stolen so little sleep. He could hear Wes’s steady breaths from the bed opposite and envied his friend’s ability to sleep though anything and everything. He’d tossed and turned, gotten up and paced the dorm room, sat in the bathroom on his phone; and his roommate had slumbered through it all.Back in his first days at Dalton, when his nights were constantly disturbed by nightmares, and every shadow scared the crap out of him; Wes had made him promise to wake him if he ever needed to talk. He’d sat and listened as Blaine recounted every painful second of his attack, he’d held him throughout his numerous breakdowns and anxiety attacks. He’d covered for him on the days when he had gotten so bad, he’d barely been able to leave their room, and now? Now that the nightmares were a rarity rather than the norm, and he’d gotten a hold on his anxiety? Now, Blaine was terrified of waking his roommate for something as inconsequential as this seemed.
Series: Rebuild, Reform, Restart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053494
Comments: 45
Kudos: 42





	1. Missed Opportunities

Sleep was escaping him.

His alarm clock was telling him that he needed to get up in four hours, and he’d still not managed to feel even _remotely_ drowsy. He was always edgy close to competition, but this was the first time in a while, he’d stolen so little sleep. He could hear Wes’s steady breaths from the bed opposite and envied his friend’s ability to sleep though anything and everything. He’d tossed and turned, gotten up and paced the dorm room, sat in the bathroom on his phone; and his roommate had slumbered through it all.

Back in his first days at Dalton, when his nights were constantly disturbed by nightmares, and every shadow scared the crap out of him; Wes had made him promise to wake him if he ever needed to talk. He’d sat and listened as Blaine recounted every painful second of his attack, he’d held him throughout his numerous breakdowns and anxiety attacks. He’d covered for him on the days when he had gotten so bad, he’d barely been able to leave their room, and now? Now that the nightmares were a rarity rather than the norm, and he’d gotten a hold on his anxiety? Now, Blaine was terrified of waking his roommate for something as inconsequential as this seemed.

All it had taken was one conversation. One small line that had probably meant so little to the person who had said it, but had sent him crashing from cloud nine, only to end up in a crumpled heap in a tree. ‘Your solos are breath taking, they’re also numerous.’

The fact that it had come from _Kurt_ only amplified the problem. It amplified the problem until it was ringing in his ears, banging against his head and consuming him. It was the reason he had yet to find sleep. He sighed again and got out of bed, pulling on his slippers and a dressing gown. If sleep was going to elude him then he might as well make something of the next four hours. He slipped out of the dorm, only just remembering to grab his key and tiptoed down the corridor to the main staircase.

If he timed it just right, he could be back in his dorm without Wes being any the wiser, and a couple of extra hours of practice under his belt. Creeping around the school after dark had become a skill he’d acquired in those early days, when Wes had managed to sleep through one of his nightmares, and he’d not wanted to wake him. He’d taken to wandering the corridors aimlessly, and yet; he always somehow ended up at the same place.

The practice room.

Technically, it was an old common room, that the Warblers had commandeered for their use, but the acoustics were decent, and there was a great view of the grounds from the piano stool. He slipped into the attached office of the staff sponsor they never saw, and raided the desk for blank music sheets and a pencil. He suspected that it was the same stash of supplies that he had sneaked in last year, they never really did _see_ their sponsor.

He settled down at the piano and quickly went through his warm up before starting to attempt to figure out the tune that had been rattling around his head the past few days. Wes was constantly asking him where he got the inspiration for his songs, but he could never seem to be able to sufficiently explain it. Sometimes he would get an earworm that would result in him sitting at the piano, or picking up his guitar and spending hours trying to work it out. Sometimes little snippets of lyrics would make their way into the corners of his notebooks, scratched in the margins of his algebra homework or scribbled on the back of his essays. All he knew; was that the longer it took him to get it out and down on paper, the worse it would get. The worst were those earworms that wiggled away before he could fully work them out. Earworms that, no matter how long he spent trying to get them down on paper; would escape him, never to be heard, or played, or _felt_.

Missed opportunities.

Just like the opportunity he’d had to fully stick up for himself today, and instead had used the excuse of the council to deflect Kurt’s comment. He knew that sometimes he was too much, in fact; most of his time these days went into trying to be just _enough_. It was exhausting. Wes had already admitted to him in private that although Kurt’s range was impressive (they hadn’t had a proper countertenor in _years_ ); they weren’t going to consider him for a solo unless they went to nationals. He was too valuable an asset for the harmonies to stick out front, and truthfully; they weren’t yet sure that he was up for the pressure.

“You’re going to send me grey prematurely, do you know that?” His hands left the piano keys and he whipped around to find Wes leaning up against the doorframe, his arms folded and an exasperated look on his face. His roommate turned around; leaning out of the door to murmur to someone outside before stepping into the room and closing it behind him.

“Sorry.” Blaine replied with a grimace. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I figured.” A silence stretched out in front of them, broken only by the old clock on the mantle before; “You should have woken me.” Blaine apologised again, his standard response to most things these days. He still worried about stepping on toes or offending someone, even after over a year at Dalton, almost two now. It was automatic, ingrained in his psyche, an aftereffect of what had happened before… “What is going on?” Wes asked, pulling him up from the piano stool by the hand and leading him over to one of the sofas.

“Nothing.” He winced, that was too quick a response to be anything close to believable.

“Liar.” Wes replied just as quickly. “You’re a liar Devon, and I don’t even need to prove it. The evidence is right here in front of me.” There was another silence, Blaine trying not to meet Wes’s eyes in fear that the other boy would see right through him. Wes always did have a special talent for reading people. “Look, you know that I’m always here for you right?” He nodded. “And, that you can tell me anything in confidence, and without judgement.” Another nod. “Then please talk to me Dev. You wouldn’t have come down here unless you really were too wired to sleep, and the only times you’re too wired to sleep are when you’re overthinking things, or you’re excited. I know it’s not the latter otherwise you would have had no problems with waking me up to tell me. So, do us both a favour and cut the bullshit so that we can _both_ go back to bed.”

“I don’t want another solo.” He whispered. A weight leaving his chest for having said it out loud. “Not for regionals, not for our impromptu performances, not for the rest of the season. Give them to the others. I don’t want it to be ‘ _Blaine and the Pips’_ anymore.” He hadn’t realised that he’d got up to pace until Wes stopped him in his tracks; reaching up to untangle his hands from where they were tugging painfully on his curls, a tic that had only appeared after his surgery.

“Is this because of what Hummel said to you today?” He asked sternly, his eyes hard and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Because you know that none of us feel that way, right? You’re our best lead Devon, and yours is the voice that would best lead us to Nationals.”

“But, he’s right Wes.” Blaine whispered. “I don’t deserve everything you guys give me. Nick’s voice is just as strong as mine and Trent…” His tirade was stopped by Wes’s hand slapping over his mouth.

“Shut up.” The other boy ground out; his expression now beyond pissed. “You are not going to let Hummel ruin all the work I put into you, do you understand me?” Blaine nodded, dropping his eyes to meet the carpet, rather than Wes’s face. “You say that you don’t deserve it, I say that’s bullshit. We’ve been over this dozens of times, and I’ll be damned if one spiteful and jealous comment is going to set you back _months_. Now, I’m going to remove my hand from your face and you’re going to tell me why you _do_ deserve the leads. Are we understood?” Blaine nodded again and sighed when the other boy’s hand fell away from his mouth and grabbed his wrist to bring him back over to the sofa.

“I deserve them because you guys think I’m the strongest lead.” He whispered; his hands knotting together on his lap.

“Not good enough Devon.” Wes replied, reaching out to separate his fingers and instead lace them through his own. “Try again.”

“I deserve the lead because I am the strongest voice.” A nod of approval this time.

“Better, why else?”

“Because I work the hardest.” Another nod.

“What else?”

“Because I am the only one who knows how to cover up a slip from one of the guys.”

“And because you are going to be the first Junior to take up the gavel when I graduate next year. Because despite everything else you are the leader that this team needs. You _breathe_ music Blaine, and you can do things that none of us are able. For God’s sake you are here at three in the morning, fucking _composing_ instead of sleeping. You are more invested in this than anyone I know, including Hummel. You are a lead Blaine, he isn’t. Yes, he might be able to belt out a Broadway classic, but so what? There is no emotion behind what he does. You connect with the music and an audience in a way none of us are able. Now stop this bullshittery and come to bed.”

“Can you at least give him an audition?”

“No Dev, and we’re not going through this again. If Hummel’s got a problem, he can approach us, not take it out on you. I’ll tell him as much when I see him at breakfast. Don’t you think that you put yourself through enough as it is?”

“Is there any way I can convince you otherwise?” Blaine whispered, suddenly feeling as exhausted as he should have done five hours ago.

“Not a chance.” Wes replied with a snort. “Now clear your stuff and _please_ come up to bed.” He complied quickly, gathering the half-filled music sheets and grabbing the pencil which had rolled onto the floor. Wes grabbed his hand and practically dragged him back up the stairs and towards their dorm room, unlocking the door and pushing him onto his bed. They divested themselves of their dressing gowns and slippers and both were soon bundled back up under the covers of their respective beds.

He was asleep in seconds.


	2. Affectionate Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple of chapters already to go with this, so there will be a couple of updates this week, depending on how the rest of my writing goes.

“I need a word with you Hummel.” Wes said coldly as he dropped his breakfast tray opposite Kurt and pulled out a seat.

“Please join me.” The younger boy said sarcastically as the Asian slid into the chair and eyed him with distaste. “What can I do for you?”

“If you have any issues with how the Warblers are run, you will in future bring them to the council. I will not have you taking your jealousy out on Blaine. Are we understood?” Kurt was quickly on the defensive, lips pouting in his anger and his eyebrows knitting together.

“What did he tell you because if…”

“He didn’t _need_ to tell me anything Hummel.” Wes replied angrily, cutting him off. “In fact, trying to get information like this out of Blaine is like trying to draw blood from stone. I heard your little ‘conversation’ with him yesterday, and I didn’t care for your tone. What’s the old adage? If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all? Well, until you can prevent yourself from doing any more damage, stay away from Blaine, or it will be your position on the team that is forfeit.” Wes slid his chair back with a screech and stood up, picking up his untouched tray. “Nice talking with you Hummel.”

Kurt sat back in his chair for a moment, attempting to process what had just happened and feeling anger overtake him. He had _not_ come here to sing background to another Rachel for the rest of the year. Of course, he wouldn’t have had to come here at all if it hadn’t been for Karofsky and the rest of the jocks. It wasn’t his fault that he was stuck in a preppy school for rich boys. He sat brooding for a minute or too until he saw Blaine walk in, and the red mist descended. He shot up from his seat and stormed over to where the older boy was standing in line for breakfast.

“Couldn’t handle the truth so you went running to mummy, did you?” He snarled, grabbing Blaine’s shoulder and turning the boy to face him. “Is that what happens here? Not man enough to stand up to me directly so you have the council threaten my position in the team?” Blaine had lost what little colour he _did_ have and he could feel his chest tighten painfully. If he didn’t successfully remove himself from the situation in the next minute, he wouldn’t be attending classes for the rest of the day.

“Kurt I…”

“Save it.” The younger boy snarled, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear it. Not from you, and not from Montgomery. You all think you’re so much better than me because daddy has money? Well guess what high baller? You aren’t better than me, you aren’t better than anyone. You’re just a pretty faced puppet master who has delusions of grandeur. Besides, how rich must daddy be to be able to afford for you to repeat a year?” There was a gasp behind him and Blaine’s expression was one of utmost relief as he spotted someone over his shoulder.

He turned around to see Trent, David and Jeff; the blond holding back David who looked almost ready to commit murder. Trent’s hand was over his mouth and his eyes were wide as they flicked between the two of them. Kurt had Blaine practically backed against the wall and the older boy was practically _grey_.

“You stay away from him.” David snarled as he wrestled against Jeff’s hands on his shoulders. “Do you hear me? You get the hell away from him and _stay_ away.”

“Blaine?” Trent whispered, ignoring Kurt in favour of reaching out to a frozen Blaine. “Blaine come with me.” He whispered again. The dark-haired boy was practically hyperventilating at this point and Trent knew that if he didn’t get him out of there soon, the situation would become dangerous. He glanced around the dining hall, relieved to find it quiet and nodded to Jeff to indicate that he would get Blaine out. He reached towards his friend and gently took hold of Blaine’s wrist, trying to ignore David, who was still growling at Kurt. “Blaine, we have to get you out of here, do you understand me?” Blaine nodded, his brain kicking into autopilot as his feet moved them both towards the doors, leaving an enraged David behind.

“What if he tells him?” He gasped, as they made it out into the corridor. His other hand had made its way up, to lace into his hair, his fingers tightening around a good chunk and dislodging the product in his curls. “What if David tells Kurt what happened? What if he finds out what I am? I can’t do this.” He stopped halfway down the corridor and started trying to pull away from Trent’s grip. He wanted to be anywhere but in the middle of the school right now. The walls were starting to close in and breathing was becoming increasingly harder. His vision swam for a second and when it cleared; he found himself on a sofa in the practice room, Wes in front of him and Trent at his side.

“You have to breathe for me Blaine.” Trent was saying; squeezing his hand, terror all over his face as he glanced backwards and forwards between Blaine and Wes.

What happened?

“You spaced out Dev.” Wes replied to the question he hadn’t even known he’d asked out loud. There was more talking and he forced himself to focus. “…You are safe Dev, you’re with us and only us.”

“Kurt…”

“Won’t be coming anywhere near you for the foreseeable future, if _I_ have anything to say about it.” Wes snarled, his anger quickly abating when he caught Blaine’s wince. “I’m sorry Dev, I’m not mad at you.”

“We need to move before someone sees us.” Trent whispered to the other boy. Blaine was trying to focus their conversation but both his head and his chest were on fire.

“Can you get him up to our dorm?”

“Without meeting anyone? Impossible at this time of day.” Trent replied with a shake of his head.

“Fuck.” Blaine was soon made to make eye contact with Wes, in the form of two hands cupping his cheeks. “Devon listen to me.” Wes said forcibly. “You have to get your breathing under control for me so that Trent can take you back up to our room. Blaine shook his head against the older boy’s grip.

“Class…”

“Can wait until you’re _actually_ fit to attend.” Wes cut in. “I’ll cover for you both but I need you to get up there and get some _sleep._ And I don’t mean an hour’s nap. You got barely three hours last night and it wasn’t enough. I just need you to get your breathing under control so that Trent can get you up there.”

“But what about Kurt?”

“Leave that asshole to me.” Wes replied. “He was _not_ right about any of it. You understand that, right? Anything he said to you was born out of jealousy and pettiness. It isn’t who you _are_.” Blaine chose not to answer that and instead tried to concentrate on his breathing. It was hard, considering his chest felt like it was about to burst open and his breaths were coming raggedly and sharp. It took a few more minutes but he eventually was getting enough oxygen and his eyes had stopped leaking tears he hadn’t even noticed were there. Wes pulled him into a tight hug before passing him off to Trent. He practically folded into the other boy; Trent’s calm nature soaking through his blazer as he wrapped his arms around him.

“We have to move Blaine.” He whispered, and he nodded, pulling back and taking another deep breath, wiping his face with the back of his hand and plastering on a smile which was a bit too close to a grimace to look natural. It wasn’t over by any means, and his blood was still pumping loudly in his ears, but it was sticky tape over a wound, and it would suffice until they were back in the safety of the dorms.

“Let’s go.” He said, standing up and following Trent out of the practice room and towards the stairs.

* * *

Kurt knew he was in trouble as soon as Wes appeared at the end of the corridor. Jeff had successfully managed to keep David from murdering him, but he was beginning to think that they were saving the job for the Asian, who was storming towards them with a royally pissed off expression.

“You better have a fucking good explanation for this.” He snarled at the pair of Warblers who were suddenly wearing sheepish looks. “After what happened last night, I told you both to keep an eye on him, and he didn’t even get to sit down for breakfast.”

“Sorry Wes.” Jeff said sincerely. “We got down here thirty seconds too late.”

“Not good enough.”

“We know.” David replied, jumping into the conversation. “And we’re really sorry. Mr Knowles stopped us on our way down the stairs.” Wes growled at the pair who cast their eyes downwards. “How is he?”

“How do you think he fucking is? Trent’s probably the only thing between him and the fucking nurse right now.” Kurt scoffed at that and soon had a face full of a furious Wes. “I told you to stay the fuck away from him.” The older boy snarled.

“Oh _please_ , as if you could _get_ any more dramatic.” Kurt replied. “That little performance in there was almost up to Rachel Berry’s standard of tantrums. I didn’t come here to sing back up to him for the rest of the year. And I didn’t come here for him to run for help every time he gets upset.”

“No, you came here to escape bullies.” Jeff butted in before Wes could explode in the younger boy’s face. “You came here to escape a threat to your life. Just think about what comes out of that gaping hole you call a mouth before being so quick to judge others. Do you honestly believe that we’re all here because our parents are snobs?”

“You are.” David butted in with a snort, receiving a glare from the blond boy. Kurt had gone pale at Jeff’s words; his eyes wide.

“Are you saying that Blaine…” Wes cut him off by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“You do _not_ get to talk about him.” He snarled. “You do _not_ get to know him, or ask questions about him. From now on, all you are to him is a fucking _ghost_. Are we clear?” Kurt nodded against his hand which was quickly removed. “You are both to watch him.” He ordered, turning to the other two. “He goes anywhere near Blaine and you have my permission to stop him by any means necessary. We’ll talk later about protection details.” He turned back towards Kurt, his anger dissipating but his eyes cold and hard. “Your involvement with the Warblers is at its end.” He said. “You even _think_ about turning up tonight and you will be the first in our history to be removed by our staff sponsor.” He turned and stalked off back down the corridor, leaving Kurt alone again with the two other council members.

* * *

“Blaine look at me.” Trent said softly; crouching down at the side of the bed to lift Blaine’s head gently with his hands. “Please D, eyes on me.” Blaine finally raised watery eyes to meet Trent’s. “I know that you feel like crap right now, but Wes will kill me if I let you sleep in your uniform. Go and get a shower and I’ll pass you some things in okay?” A slow nod was all that Trent needed to know that he could bring his friend out of the other side of this morning’s ‘episode’.

The five of them had been woken up by a frantic Wes in the middle of the night, him having woken up and found Blaine out of bed. Trent and David had been the ones to catch the music coming from the practice room and between them all they had managed to get a message back to Wes, who had been on his way out with Thad, to start checking the outbuildings. Nick and Jeff had legged it from one side of the school, to the other in order to catch up with the pair, and had made it just in time to find Wes already half way out of a ground floor window.

As Blaine showered; Trent riffled through Wes’s wardrobe to pull out a Dalton hoodie with his hockey number on the back, before turning to Blaine’s drawers to find a pair of old joggers. He cracked open the bathroom door and left them on top of the closed toilet seat before going about stripping Blaine’s bed and putting fresh linen on it. Wes had confided in him that it was one of the things that helped to ground the younger boy; the smell of their laundry detergent was associated with safety after an episode, and that Blaine would more often than not wrap himself up into a ‘ _sadness burrito_ ’ (yes those were the words he used) every time he needed to calm himself down.

Once the bed was remade; Trent went about boiling the pair’s kettle, grabbing Blaine’s X-Men mug and throwing in a Rooibos teabag and a spoon of honey. The teabags were Wes’s, but feeding coffee to Blaine was not a good idea at that moment. Experience had taught them what happened when you gave an anxiety ridden Blaine Anderson caffeine. He heard the shower turn off and brewed the tea, throwing the bag in the trash, just as Wes came back into the dorm.

“He’s just turned the shower off. I borrowed one of your hoodies and pinched a tea bag. I hope that’s okay.” Wes smiled and nodded. “That’s fine. Thanks for watching him.”

“No worries. Are you staying with him today, or am I?”

“You both should get to class.” The boy in question remarked as he opened the bathroom door, allowing steam to flood the dorm. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t, and I won’t hear any more about it.” Wes replied, taking in Blaine’s wild curls and drooping eyes. “You and Trent are going to stay here for the day, watch Disney movies and eat a shit tonne of junk food. I brought you a cinnamon roll up from breakfast and Trent’s brewed you some tea. You’re going to sleep for at least the next three hours and only then will I be prepared to sneak out at lunch to grab you both a pizza.” Trent grinned at the younger boy and disappeared to get changed with a quick ‘back in a minute’.

“I’m okay Wes.” Blaine whispered, moving to sit on his bed and wrap his arms around his stomach.

“You’re a liar Devon.” Wes replied, echoing the same words he’d said in the middle of the night. He took a seat next to the younger boy and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him slightly into his side. “Talk to me, please?”

“What is there to say?” Blaine asked with a shrug. “He’s right in a way.” He held up his hand to stall the onslaught he knew was coming from his roommate and instead carried on his explanation. “The only reason I’m _here_ , is because my parents had the money to send me. After Westerville, they could have just sent me to another public school, but they didn’t. They sent me _here_.”

“Dev, you couldn’t _go_ to another public school.” Wes breathed. “Not after what they did to you. You’re here because Dalton can protect you. You’re _here_ because this is where you are safest. Screw Hummel and whatever bullshit he believes because _we_ know who you are.”

“I’m a mess.”

“No.” Wes replied a little fore forcibly than he’d intended. He took a breath and reached out to turn Blaine’s head so that the other boy was looking at him. “You have been doing so well Dev, and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come this past year. You _can’t_ let Hummel set you back like this. You _can’t_ take what he says upon your shoulders, because everything that came out of his mouth both yesterday and today was out of jealousy and spite. I know that you are bound to overthink this. That’s inevitable and I can’t stop the thoughts that will end up going through your head, but I _can_ be here to remind you of how brilliant you are. You’re not a mess Dev, you’re a work in progress, and we are here whenever you need us, to help you work out what is going off underneath these curls.”

They sat in silence until Trent came back; Blaine accepting the mug of tea from Wes, but turning a sickly pallor at the cinnamon roll the older boy offered him. They were his favourite pastries, but he genuinely didn’t believe that he would be able to keep it down. He clutched the mug to his chest, more to hide the fact that his hands were shaking and as soon as Trent bounced back into the room, Wes bid him a goodbye in order to make his first class.

“Right then, we have our marching orders. Under the blankets D before I resort to affectionate violence.”


	3. You Can't Play on Broken Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I should probably mention at this point that Blaine is going to be slightly OOC in places. I put him through a lot in the backstory of this fic so its kinda understandable but just warning you guys ahead of time.   
> I do have a couple more chapters already done so you can probably expect another update tomorrow. By keeping chapter lengths down I'm hoping I can get a chapter up every single day this week. My muse is allowing me to work on this at the minute so I guess that's a good thing.

The day passed relatively quickly for Blaine. Trent had done a spectacular job in distracting him, and apart from a _small_ breakdown he’d had after lunch, things had gone rather well. The pair of them gave Warbler practice a miss; fully aware of how close to regionals they were, but not wanting to be there in case Hummel showed up, and Wes had swung it with his father to get all three of them excused from classes for tomorrow as well.

Wes’s excuse was that it gave them the full weekend to get Blaine’s head where it needed to be for Monday, and the competition and, it ensured space away from Hummel to prevent any further incidents. He would be the first to admit that it had been a gamble to go to his father, but as headmaster it was his dad’s first priority to look after his students, and Blaine’s history was well documented and _extensive_.

He could barely believe that it had been nearly two years since the smaller boy had arrived in his dorm room; covered in stiches and plaster, half of his hair shaved off from surgery and his sleep dogged by nightmares. He’d been terrified of his own shadow, and it had been a very long and very hard road for all of them to get where they were. His parents had refused him professional help and so Wes and Trent had taken it upon themselves to put Blaine back together; eventually roping in first David, then Nick and Jeff and finally, Thad. He’d been doing so well; his sleep patterns had settled down after the first nine months and he had finally managed to get a handle on his anxiety. Or, so they had thought.

Today had brought home to all of them just how tentative that hold was. From Blaine’s very first day; Wes had been adamant on his behalf that the school nurse was only going to exasperate the problem (as proven within Blaine’s first week when he burst several stitches in his haste to leave the medical wing after coming around from an anxiety attack), and so his dad had given him a hesitant offer of help.

The idea was that they got Blaine through his classes, helped him keep on top of his homework, made sure his GPA stayed up, and called for help whenever they ended up out of their depth; and in return they had carte blanche to excuse him from as many classes as they needed to in order to keep him from a full scale meltdown. It had been working, and he’d been doing so much better, until he wasn’t.

It had all started when he’d arrived at an impromptu concert; dragging one Kurt Hummel behind him by the hand. Since then it had been Kurt this and Kurt _that._ David had remarked that it was like Blaine had never met another gay before, until Blaine promptly reminded them all, that he and Wes got to enjoy listening to Nick and Jeff fucking every night through the thin walls of the dorm rooms. It was all fine whilst Kurt had been at another school, although the two-hour screaming match which had succeeded his confrontation of Karofsky had Wes vowing to put a kiddie leash on him if he ever again did anything so; ‘ _foolish and dangerous and GOD Devon, what the fuck were you thinking?’_ David’s offhand comment about bondage had not been appreciated, and neither had Thad’s laughter followed by the declaration that Blaine’s anxiety had a; ‘ _momma bear override_ ’.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked; pulling him out of his musings only to realise that he’d been staring at the same page of his essay for the past fifteen minutes.

“I should be asking _you_ that.” He replied, throwing down his pen and rubbing his eyes. “I was just thinking about how much progress you’ve made this past couple of years.” He said softly, looking over to where his roommate was curled up on his bed; pressing himself into the corner where the left-hand wall met the bathroom. It didn’t matter if it was just the two of them or all seven of them piled in here; Blaine always managed to find a corner to squeeze himself into, and always looked so small in doing so.

“I’m a work in progress.” Blaine whispered after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence. Wes sighed and got up from his desk, climbing onto his roommate’s bed to wrap Blaine into a tight embrace, shushing him gently when the tears that had been building during the course of the day, finally spilled onto the shoulder of his t-shirt.

“You might be a work in progress Dev, but you have made me so proud over the last few months. Don’t throw away all that hard work you have put in, over a comment made by a bitter gelfling with jealousy issues. You have shown me time and time again that you are better than this. That you are stronger. You are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and you have walked through fire to get where you are today. Never downplay what you have achieved here.”

“I thought I’d got a handle on it.” Blaine sniffed against his shoulder. “But he was so mad at me, and I felt the walls close in, and I couldn’t run, and he wouldn’t let me talk. I had nowhere to go.”

“I know.” Wes replied, lifting his hand up to bury his fingers in black curls, rubbing a soothing motion on the back of his roommate’s head; his fingers tracing over a series of long scars. “But then Trent, David and Jeff were there right? Because we always have your back Dev. Because we always have your back and we’re _always_ here to rescue you from mutant gelflings.”

“My heroes.” Blaine whispered with a shuddery breath that was half way between a laugh and a sob. It took a few minutes, but eventually Wes felt the smaller boy’s breaths even out and he risked shifting slightly to confirm what he already knew. Blaine was fast asleep against his chest, his cheeks still wet and flushed, but his face somewhat peaceful.

* * *

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Trent asked, bouncing into their dorm room with three takeout cups from the cafeteria and a box of pastries.

“We’re going out.” Wes replied, sitting up out of bed to reach for one of the cups. After Blaine had fallen asleep against him, he’d spent most of the night in the smaller boy’s bed; Blaine clinging onto him for dear life as an inevitable nightmare played out behind his eyelids. He’d managed to coax his roommate back to sleep somewhere around three and had moved back to his own bed an hour later, lest Trent find them together and get the wrong idea.

It hadn’t been the first time they’d shared a bed; Blaine’s nightmares having woken him numerous times before as he clutched his shirt to his face and half screamed, half cried himself awake. But it _had_ been the first time they were likely to be caught by any of their fellow Warblers whilst doing so. After his bad dream, Blaine’s sleep had been peaceful, and so Wes had considered it safe to move back to his own bed; intent on keeping an ear out just in case.

“What time is it?” The boy in question slurred; his head shoved under his pillow.

“Just after seven.” Trent announced cheerfully; ignoring Blaine’s subsequent groan. “You are both in official ‘sleep in’ hours.” Another groan from Blaine coaxed a laugh from the older boy, and he sat himself down on the edge of his bed; lifting the pillow and waving one of the cups in front of a pair of blurry, hazel eyes. “I brought coffee, cronuts and cinnamon rolls so get your sweet butt out of bed so we can go on whatever hairbrained adventure Wes has planned for us.” The dark-haired boy scowled at him through a mass of thick curls, before relinquishing and sitting up, the quilt pooling around his middle as he made grabby hands for the coffee cup. Trent laughed again and passed it to his friend before getting up to rifle shamelessly through Blaine’s drawers, pulling out clothes he deemed ‘suitable’ for a secret excursion.

“Its way too early for him to be this cheerful, right?” Blaine asked, peering over to Wes, who was watching Trent with a fond expression.

“Its way too late for you to be this grumpy.” The other boy retorted, taking a long pull from whatever concoction Trent had ordered him. “You should be excited.”

“And why is that? What have you got planned for us? And how are we going to sneak off of school grounds in the middle of the day?”

“Well first off, you should be excited because it will be the first time you have left the dorms in well over a week. Second of all, I’m not telling. And thirdly, there will be no sneaking involved. As far as anyone is concerned, you will suffer a family emergency within the next half an hour, excusing you from lessons for the rest of the day, and giving us the perfect cover to leave.” Blaine was looking at him with wide eyes and he laughed, finally getting out of bed, only to squeeze him into a one-armed hug and head towards the bathroom, swapping his coffee cup with the pile of clothes Trent was holding out for him.

“I don’t know whether to be more scared or impressed.” Blaine whispered, in awe of his roommate’s supposed duplicity.

“Definitely scared.” The other boy laughed, moving to make Wes’s bed.

* * *

“I’m really enjoying our time together guys, but what are we doing _here_?” Blaine asked, looking out of the car window at the familiar houses.

“Because _you_ made the poor decision to leave your guitar at home the other weekend and you have been pining for it ever since.” Wes replied matter-of-factly. “Your parents aren’t in, I checked, so we’ll just get in, get whatever else you need and get out so that we can make it into town for lunch.”

“I’m starving.” Trent moaned from the back seat.

“You ate like three cronuts for breakfast.” Blaine replied, turning around in his seat to stare at the other boy. “How can you be hungry?”

“Because D, not everyone eats like a bird like you do.” Trent replied. “And, breakfast was like four hours ago, it’s _normal_ to be hungry at lunch time.”

“He has a point Dev.” Wes replied. “Don’t think none of us have noticed your meagre intake of food recently.” Blaine turned back around in his seat with a huff, folding his arms to scowl childishly out of the window.

“If I’m hungry; I’ll eat, if I’m not; I won’t.”

“And how often are you _not_ hungry?” Wes asked, an eyebrow quirking. “Because yesterday was the first time either of us have seen you eat what us normal people would consider a _decent_ amount of food in like three weeks, and that is considering you skipped breakfast.” Blaine didn’t answer and instead continued to glare out of the window pointedly. It wasn’t _his_ fault he had a lousy appetite recently; he just didn’t feel hungry as much.

They pulled on to the Anderson’s drive and Wes passed him his house key without a word. He mumbled a quick ‘ _back in a minute_ ’ before disappearing into the house. He kicked off his shoes at the door and took the stairs two at a time, grabbing a duffel bag out of the hallway closet as he shouldered his way into his room. He took stock for a split second before diving for his wardrobe, pulling out a couple of spare hoodies, his boxing gloves (hadn’t it been a _brilliant_ idea to leave them behind as well?), and both his training and competition headgear. A quick trip into his on-suite saw his spare pot of conditioning oil disappear into his bag before he was back in his bedroom, raiding his drawers for a few spare t-shirts and pairs of joggers. He took one last look around his room before slinging the bag over his shoulder and grabbing both his guitar _and_ ukulele cases. He wasn’t quite sure what had made him pick up the four-stringed instrument; but he figured it would make some sense to him down the line somewhere.

He got out to the car and passed his bag and instruments off to Trent before pausing, a frown pulling at his eyebrows as something drew his attention back to the house. He rubbed at his chest with his fist, trying to pinpoint what the hell was going on with him.

“You okay?” Wes asked, his hand landing on his shoulder.

“I think I forgot something.” He replied. “But I don’t know what.”

“Well you got the guitar and the uke, what else is there you need?”

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He replied, pulling away from the older boy and heading back in the house. He paused at the foot of the stairs this time before taking them slowly, dragging himself back towards his bedroom. He pushed open the door and knelt down in front of his wardrobe, opening the doors and reaching towards the back until his hand hit another instrument case. He pulled it out and studied it for a moment. Why the hell had he come back for _this_ of all things? He’d not played this in over two years. He fingered the latch on the case before opening it up; staring down at the instrument in both confusion and just a hint of fear.

“Dev, bud we gotta go before we hit the rush…” Wes trailed of when he caught sight of his roommate, frozen on the floor with a case open in front of him. “What’s that?” He asked, carefully making his way over to his friend.

“My violin.” Blaine whispered, his voice shaking.

“I didn’t know you played.” Wes said softly, kneeling down at the side of the younger boy, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the violin in question. “It’s beautiful.”

“I haven’t played since before…” Blaine trailed off.

“Dev, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. But something drew you back to this didn’t it?” Blaine nodded carefully. “Then pack it up and let’s hit the road. You once told me that you had no idea how you knew which instrument you needed, that it all became clear in time. Pack this up and put it in the car and let’s go back to enjoying our day, yeah?” Another nod and the case clicked closed.

“It’s going to need re-stringing.”

“Then we’ll take a trip into Dublin, Rettig sorted out my mum’s cello last year.”

“You don’t mind?”

“It’s practically on our way into town anyway.” Wes said with a shrug. “But we need to get going before we hit traffic.”

* * *

After the trip to the house, and the two unexpected wooden stowaways had made their way into the trunk; Blaine had been subdued. Not that he’d been bouncing with excitement that morning anyway, but he was much quieter after dropping the violin into Rettig. Wes and Trent had worked hard to keep his mood from spiralling, but to little avail. All he wanted to do was to get back to his dorm and sleep whatever _this_ was off.

They pulled back into Dalton a little after six, with enough bags of Thai takeout to feed an army and enough Bluerays to burn out their player. In their infinite wisdom (or at least that’s what _Wes_ called it), the two older boys had decided to host a Warbler sleepout in their common room. Usually Thai food and action movies were considered his favourite answer to Friday night boredom, but he hadn’t felt _less_ like celebrating than he did right then. All he wanted to do was curl up in the middle of his bed and mull over the reason his brain was deciding to hate him.

Trent grabbed his duffel bag and the uke case; leaving him with his guitar and violin, seeing as Wes was weighed down with bags of Thai. He hesitated as he went to pick up the smaller of the two instruments, debating on leaving it in Wes’s trunk and pretending it didn’t exist for the next two weeks.

“If you don’t take it, you’ll be after my keys within the next twenty-four hours. Pick the fucking thing up Devon and let’s _go_.” Wes sniped, fumbling with his keys. Blaine sighed and did what he was told, following Trent into the school, trying to ignore the fact that the smaller of the two cases felt the heaviest. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I would have thought you were terrified of it.” Wes said jokingly, catching him up as they reached the stairs.

“I haven’t played this since I was attacked.” He whispered his reply. “I don’t even know…”

“Blaine stop.” Wes ordered, pausing on the stairs. “You have been playing strings again for the last _year_. You have no reason to think that you won’t still know how to…”

“What if I _can’t_ Wes.” Blaine hissed, wincing at just how public this argument could turn out to be. Even though the school was quiet, there was still plenty of boys milling around for things to turn awkward if they got any louder. “It took me _months_ to be able to play the guitar like I used to, and it almost _broke_ me.” Wes sighed and nudged him up the rest of the stairs and towards their dorm where Trent was waiting for them to let him in. Blaine unlocked the door and shouldered his way into the room, dropping both instruments on his bed with a growl. Wes deposited the bags of takeout on his desk before rounding on his roommate.

“It’s been two years Devon.” He said sternly, pushing Blaine down onto his bed and kneeling in front of him so that their eyes were level. “You picked the piano back up in less than a _month_ , and the guitar back up in four. Despite the fact that you were still recovering from _brain_ surgery, and had broken most of your fingers; you mastered two instruments in less than six months. So, I don’t want to hear any of your ‘ _I can’t do this’_ bullshit. You are one of the most talented people I know, and if anyone is going to re-master the violin, it’s going to be _you_.”

“But what if I _can’t._ ”

“Then you move on to something else.” Wes said with a shrug. “It won’t be the end of the world if Devon Anderson isn’t a virtuosic violin player. Not when he’s so fucking _perfect_ at everything else. So put that case away under your bed, put your guitar and uke in the wardrobe and let’s go down and enjoy Thai food and fast car chases.” Blaine nodded hesitantly and Wes sighed in relief. He fully expected to have to drag the younger man down to the sleepout but this made things easier.

A compliant Blaine he could work with.


	4. Regionals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have finally started to read CP Coulter's Daltonverse today; I'm ten chapters in and loving every line so far. Anyway, this is Chapter 4, Enjoy!

The rest of the weekend passed relatively slowly compared to his Thursday and Friday. The sleepout had gone well and he’d miraculously managed to avoid a nightmare (although that was probably down to the fact that they’d stayed up until three, watching movies and throwing popcorn across the room at each other). Saturday had been clean up and an impromptu choreography practice, and Sunday had been filled _exclusively_ with practice.

Despite his reservations, the council (Wes, Nick and David) had been adamant that he took the first solo and that he performed the original he’d been working on over the last three weeks. In turn, he’d been just as adamant that Trent took the second number as a ballad solo of his choice and no one argued the fact. Trent was one of their strongest voices, who never got enough stage time in Blaine’s opinion. Their third and last number came in the form of a Michael mash up and there was enough work to go around everyone that he could blend more into the background than Wes had probably originally intended. It was now Monday and they were on the bus waiting to set off to Regionals.

“What the fuck is mutant gelfling doing here?” Wes growled; spotting Kurt out of the bus window. “Don’t open the doors driver.” He called out to the front. “We’re all here and we’re just waiting on Mr. Lewin. He isn’t with us.”

“Right you are Mr. Montgomery.” The bus driver called back with a nod.

“Mr. Montgomery is his _dad_.” Nick mumbled to Blaine; leaning over the back of the younger man’s seat to do so. Blaine subsequently burst into laughter and Nick considered it a success to see the younger boy smile. It was always a danger that Kurt would try to hijack today, he’d practically stalked the other Warblers on Thursday and Friday; but they’d honestly not believed he would actually _show_. It was a danger more to Blaine than the rest of them. Nick knew that Wes and Trent had spent practically the whole weekend piecing their friend back together, the danger of Kurt showing today was almost enough to send him spiralling before he’d even got on the bus.

“Where the hell is Lewin?” Wes muttered angrily; checking his watch. “He should have been here five minutes ago.”

“Since when does Lewin _actually_ show up to anything?” Nick asked with a snort. “Never mind on time?” A shout went up from a few rows back and they turned to the window to see the balding head of their sponsor approaching the coach at an almost run. He breezed past Kurt and hopped on the bus; the doors shutting just in time to prevent a now seriously pissed off Kurt from following.

“Sorry I’m late gentlemen.” Mr. Lewin said; mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

“Now can we go?” Wes asked pointedly, tapping his watch.

“Of course, Mr. Montgomery.” The teacher said with a nod and a smile. “Ready when you are driver.” Wes growled as he sat back in his isle seat; folding his arms with a sour look on his face.

“Can anything else go wrong today?” He hissed as the bus started to pull out of the school gates.

“Don’t say that.” Blaine replied with a groan; closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the seat and Wes studied his roommate with concern. There was a slight pinch between his eyebrows, his hands were clenched tightly on his lap; his knuckles almost white and his jaw kept tensing ever so slightly.

“You have a headache.” He concluded; his voice soft. He rifled through his bag and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of water and a beanie neck cushion. “You get one now and one in an hour.” He whispered; shaking out a pill and unscrewing the water. “And drink the whole thing.” Blaine nodded and quickly took the tablet; downing the bottle of water as instructed. “Now put this on and try to get a nap.” Wes said worriedly; his hand automatically going up to Blaine’s head, to check for a fever in the smaller boy. He blew a sigh of relief when he found Blaine’s skin at a normal temperature and he pulled off his jacket; draping it over the other boy, as he turned towards the window; his eyes still closed but his hands and jaw relaxing.

Word soon went down the bus (courtesy of Nick) that Blaine was asleep, and the rest of the team fell into a quiet hush out of respect for their lead vocalist. Although none outside of the small group of seniors were involved in their fellow Warbler’s rebuilding, it was a well-known fact throughout the school, just how bad of a state Blaine had arrived at Dalton in, and the rumours of both his attack and of his home life were rife amongst the other years. The fact that Blaine was also the oldest sophomore in the school but maintained a decent GPA was also cause for speculation; especially since Wes was always calling him ‘ _Junior_ ’, and maintained the opinion that Blaine was nothing else _but_ a junior, it only added fuel to what was already a burning fire.

They weren’t exactly sure if Blaine _knew_ how much gossip ran around the school about him, but Wes was damned if he ever mentioned it to him or allowed any of the other students to confront him on it. The younger boy seemed to ghost through his classes in a blissful state of ignorance, either that or he was a _really_ good actor and Wes was ninety percent sure it wasn’t the latter. Their best and most current working theory, was that he’d started to disassociate from his memories of the first few months at Dalton, and instead had pushed them so far down into the back of his mind that he really _did_ wander around in complete unawareness.

The thing which made him angry was the fact that the attack had left deep and obvious scars on his friend’s psyche. The handful of conversations he’d held with Cooper Anderson had left him with a pretty good picture of what Blaine had been like _before_ they’d had to piece his skull back together, and Blaine was anything but slow. In fact; he easily had the potential to become brilliant at a number of subjects; but he was completely oblivious when it came to the most _basic_ of social cues, or interactions. If Wes hadn’t known the details about the attack, he’d have put Blaine down as being somewhere on the autistic spectrum, such was his friend’s naivety and innocence.

“Are you okay?” Nick whispered through the seats to him. “You look spaced out.” Wes glanced at the sleeping boy next to him before nodding at his fellow councilman. Not being satisfied with that answer; Nick talked Jeff into swapping seats with Wes, so they could talk with a lower risk of waking Blaine up. “Did he sleep last night?” The other boy asked as soon as Wes got settled.

“My best estimate is that he got about three hours undisturbed before waking up from a nightmare. He dropped off again somewhere around two but was up again by five. His nights have been anything but peaceful as of late.”

“Has he spoken to you about them?”

“I keep trying, but it’s like he’s shutting himself off again. I’m getting worried Nick, we’re only a few weeks away from the end of the year, and we aren’t going to be here next year to keep an eye on him. Not to mention he has to survive the _actual_ summer first.”

“Has he said anything about his parents?” Wes shook his head with a frown.

“Not a thing. I have no idea what they have planned for the summer but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be a part of it. If he hadn’t come home with me, he’d have been on his own for both Thanksgiving _and_ Christmas this year.”

“Where’s his brother in all of this?”

“Burying his head in the California sand.” Wes muttered bitterly. “I’m not even sure he _knows_ how much the attack affected his little brother. Its better than my alternative assessment that he just doesn’t _care_.”

“We’ll think of something Wes.” Nick said reassuringly, his hand squeezing his best friend’s shoulder in support. “We won’t let him drown.” Wes nodded and they spent the next forty minutes in silence; straining their ears for any signs that Blaine was having a bad dream. Despite this however; the rest of the bus drive passed relatively uneventful and once they were about twenty minutes out, he and Jeff switched back and he went about trying to wake Blaine as gently as possible. The younger boy glared at him with sleepy eyes, muttering a mixture of obscenities and promises of retribution, but Wes took it all in his stride; passing him another bottle of water and a second Tylenol.

“As soon as we get there, I promise I’ll try and source you some coffee, but for now I need you to wake yourself up and try to start to focus.” He said softly, rubbing Blaine’s arm soothingly. The younger boy nodded and spent the next twenty minutes running himself through some breathing exercises.

* * *

This was it. The last few weeks had all come down to this moment. All the hard work and gruelling choreography sessions, all of the drama and upset and it was all for this one moment before the curtains went up. Wes had respectfully given him the stage for the first verse and chorus of his opening solo, ensuring that the breath before the song was entirely his to gather his thoughts. He closed his eyes and centred himself, allowing the audience’s cheers to be drowned out by the sounds of his breathing and of the blood pumping in his ears. It was this split second before a performance for which he lived. The adrenaline rising to the surface, making his hairs stand on end and his skin come alive with electricity. It was this moment, for which he _breathed_.

The announcer’s voice called out to introduce them, and as the curtain went up and the spot went down; he stepped up to the single mic stand.

_I’ve been alone  
Surrounded by darkness  
And I’ve seen how heartless  
The world, can be._

_I’ve seen you crying  
Felt like it’s hopeless  
I’ll always do my best  
To make you see_

_Baby, you’re not alone  
‘Cause you’re here with me  
And nothing’s ever gonna bring us down  
‘Cause nothing can keep me from loving you  
And you know it’s true  
It don’t matter what’ll come to be  
Our love is all we need to make it through._

He’d made it through the first chorus at least, and he felt rather than saw or heard the rest of his team, his _family_ move to surround him on the stage, and as he picked up the second verse; the guys pulled a surprise move and started to gently harmonise.

_Now I know it ain’t easy  
But it ain’t hard trying  
Every time I see you smiling  
And I feel you so close to me  
And you tell me…_

_Baby, you’re not alone  
‘Cause you’re here with me  
And nothing’s ever gonna bring us down  
‘Cause nothing can keep me from loving you  
And you know it’s true  
It don’t matter what’ll come to be  
Our love is all we need to make it through._

_I still have trouble  
I trip and stumble  
Trying to make sense of things sometimes  
I look for reasons  
But I don’t need ‘em  
All I need is to look in your eyes  
And I realise…_

_Baby, you’re not alone  
‘Cause you’re here with me  
And nothing’s ever gonna take us down  
‘Cause nothing can keep me from loving you  
And you know it’s true  
It don’t matter what’ll come to be  
You know our love is all we need to make it through._

He belted out the last note, took a quick bow and rushed towards the back row; swapping his mic out for a headset as Trent started to belt out a truly breath-taking rendition of Candles, and as he fell into the familiar routine for their last number he began to feel giddy that they might _actually_ have a chance to win this thing.

* * *

In a certain section of the audience; confusion was beginning to take hold as The Warblers performed with one conspicuous absence.

“Where the hell is Kurt?” Mercedes hissed to Rachel as the Dalton boys began their final number.

“I don’t know.” Rachel whispered back.

“Well did he say anything to you at the weekend?”

“No, we didn’t speak about The Warblers.” Mercedes knew that was Rachel speak for; ‘ _He didn’t manage to get a word in edgeways between my bragging about doing originals and brooding over Finn._ ’ She rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, mulling over the mystery of their missing friend.

“They’re really good.” Puck whispered to Finn; leaning over an indignant Quinn. “That fat kid almost had me in tears man, and I’m pretty sure that Anderson’s was an original song. Do you think Kurt squealed?”

“No Kurt wouldn’t do that dude.” Fin replied; oblivious to Quinn’s rising temper. “And, he’s not even here.”

“Do you know why?” Mercedes asked; butting into their conversation.

“He did something to piss of the council and they kicked him.” Finn said with a shrug. “I guess they’re more strict than we are, and it sounded pretty serious when I spoke to him on Saturday. He was really torn up about it.”

“Well I’m going to give baby cheeks down there, a serious whooping if I find out he’s done anything to hurt my boy.” Mercedes replied; dropping backwards into her chair as The Warblers finished up and took their bows. She only just caught Quinn’s threat to put her knee through Puck’s groin if he didn’t sit back down and she couldn’t help but grin slightly.

“Guys you should go and start getting changed.” Will said quietly; ushering them all up out of their seats and towards the rear doors. Now that they were on the move Mercedes could go back to mulling over her missing friend and in the midst of her musings she quite literally, ran into one Blaine Anderson.

“Oh my God Blaine, I’m so sorry.” She said, pulling him to his feet from the pile he’d landed in on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Mercedes.” Blaine replied with a smile. “Thanks though.” He brushed himself off and straightened his jacket. “Break a leg out there today yeah?” He said with a grin before pulling away to follow some of the older guys back into the auditorium.

“Wait.” She couldn’t help herself. She needed to know. Blaine turned around at the door; waving his friends in and sighing in defeat when Wes refused to budge from his side.

“Yes, Mercedes.”

“Where’s Kurt?”

“Mr. Hummel is no longer a part of The Warblers.” Wes said coldly; eyeing her with distaste. “He should think himself lucky that his position at the school isn’t also forfeit.”

“Wes just cool it a minute, will you?” Blaine sighed; pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging his eyes. His headache was back in force and this was the _last_ thing he needed right now. “Look Mercedes, I like you, and I want you to know that if you guys ever need anything from us, we’ll do our best to help. But I really think you should talk to Kurt about this instead of us. I’m sure he will have a different perspective on events and I don’t want either him or you to think we’re trying to turn anyone against him.”

“What do you mean?” She asked quietly; waving off Rachel who was calling her and gesturing wildly.

“Look Beyonce.” Wes growled; stalking up to the two of them; beyond pissed off at what he perceived to be her audacity. “Your little homeboy Hummel has a serious case of the green eyes, and he took it out on someone he _really_ shouldn’t have. Someone who we all care about. I don’t like how he spoke to my friend, a friend who has been through enough in his life already without having to deal with Hummel’s pettiness on top of everything else.”

“Wes stop.” Blaine whispered, tugging on the older boy’s sleeve. “Mercedes is cool.”

“He _hurt_ you Devon.” Wes hissed; rounding on the younger boy in fury. “And this one,” he gestured to Mercedes; looking her up and down with a full-on sneer. “has the incivility to attempt to give you a hard time over it? Well not on my watch. I spent all weekend putting you back together and I’m not about to let any of _these_ people ruin all of that hard work. Now let’s go find our seats.” With that Wes promptly dragged Blaine through the doors and he shot an apologetic look over his shoulder at Mercedes, who was left standing in the corridor, more confused than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is 'Not Alone' by the wonderful Darren Criss!


	5. Fallout of Nuclear Proportions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the 5th chapter of this fic, I have another one already half done so should still be on track for another update tomorrow. Depending on how that goes I'm still hoping to have another chapter for you guys on Friday.

The ride back to Dalton was tense. The bus was filled with the sort of oppressive silence that could never really last for too long. The sort of silence that crept into your brain and made it think all ways but straight. The sort of silence that was just _begging_ to be broken. He was actively massaging his temples by now, as his headache threatened to turn nuclear and cripple him with a migraine. He didn’t get them that often anymore.

He’d been warned that they were going to be a side effect of the surgery he’d undergone, that he’d never truly heal fully. It was a side effect he’d told himself that he could live with, as long as he did actually _live_. With the size of the craniotomy they had performed, as well as the numerous skull fractures, he’d sustained; he was lucky that the only side effect _was_ migraines. It could have gone so very wrong. He could have lost his ability to speak, to sing, to play his instruments. Hell, he could have lost the ability to _walk_. There had been so many risks involved, and so much for him to lose.

“Dev you’ve gone pale.” Wes whispered from the side of him. “Are you okay?” He was slumped forward; resting against the seat in front of him; his head, half buried beneath his arms and he was _definitely_ not in the mood for an interrogation.

“Fuck off a minute Wes.” He muttered back in reply. “Leave me be.” There was a sound half way between a sigh and a growl and there was movement at the side of him before he found himself being folded into the arms of Trent. Trent; who seemed to know exactly what he needed, because in the next instant the blind had been pulled down over the window and a pair of Advil had been pushed into his hands; along with a bottle of Gatorade.

“Take them for me D, and then you can sleep.” He whispered. Blaine complied and he was soon slumped against the older boy; his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. He just needed to shut his brain up for a while and then _maybe_ he could get some half decent sleep.

“Is he okay?” He heard David whisper from the other side of Trent.

“He just needs rest.”

“Wes and I are at the back with Nick and Jeff, call us if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine David I swear. He just needs to sleep it off.” Blaine felt Trent’s hand make its way into his hair; breaking up the product in it so that the older boy could massage his head. He groaned in pleasure and was instantly rewarded with a deep chuckle from his friend. “Try and get some sleep D. There’s still a good drive back yet.”

The oppressive silence _had_ been broken, only to now be replaced with a comfortable one. A silence born out of his team’s love and respect for him, rather than fear of one of his and Wes’s famous shouting matches if someone said the wrong thing. A silence which was created in order to let him sleep, because they could all see he needed it. Hell, even _he_ had started to see it. The dark circles were starting to return and if he had noticed them then he was pretty sure the rest of them had noticed too. He was a lot slower to notice things around him these days.

“Your brain needs to shut up D.” Trent whispered softly. “Try running through some scales inside your head, take your mind off of _other_ things.” Blaine groaned again and decided that it was as good an idea as any. He was subsequently rewarded roughly five minutes later as he sank into a blissful nap; Trent’s fingers still working their magic underneath his curls.

* * *

“He needs to _sleep_.” Wes’s voice hissed somewhere close to him. “Surely you can see just how much.”

“I’m telling you that if you carry him in and someone _sees_ he’ll never forgive you.” Trent replied back, just as quietly.

“Well I’m _not_ waking him, and you can’t both stay on the bus all night.”

“I’m awake.” He slurred, lifting his head from Trent’s shoulder. “And I really could use a bed right now so either the pair of you get out of my way or I’ll make Trent my personal pillow for the rest of the night.”

“I told you that you were gonna wake him.” Wes hissed again; shooting a dangerous look at Trent; who seemed relatively unfazed in the face of the other boy’s anger.

“ _You_ woke me asshole.” Blaine muttered; rubbing his eyes and trying to fight down the wave of nausea that had risen in his chest. “Leave him alone.” Wes let out one of his usual half sighs, half growls and eventually the two older boys managed to get him upright without the nausea taking over. “Get me inside.” He whispered; burying his head in Trent’s side as the other boy slung his arm around him.

“With pleasure your highness.” Trent replied in an over the top British accent that had both him and Wes snorting in amusement. They successfully got inside the school without too much incident but by the time they were half way up the stairs they were practically carrying the younger boy; who had lost even more colour and looked as though he was about to throw up.

“Shit, if we don’t get him up quickly, we’re going to be in the middle of the dinner rush.” Wes hissed frantically.

“Just need a sit down.” Blaine replied; his eyes rolling backwards as his legs finally gave way beneath him. He crashed against the bannister; Trent’s quick reflexes being the only thing that stopped him from falling down the stairs, and he leaned back to rest his head against the cool metal.

“Trent, we _have_ to get him out of here.” Wes said frantically.

“I’m fine, just needed a minute.” Blaine replied waving his arm dismissively in their general direction.

“No Devon, you’re anything _but_ fine.” Wes replied, crouching down in front of him. “You’re currently half passed out on the stairs, grey faced and covered in a cold sweat. You are exhausted and underweight and there is nothing I can seem to do to get you to open up to me about whatever is going on inside that head of yours. And, we _need_ to move before we all get trampled in the dinner rush, the bell for which will be going off in approximately one minute. Let us help you or so help _me_ God, I’ll leave you here to the hoard.” Blaine chuckled before holding his arms out to Trent who; instead of pulling him to his feet; lifted him clear into his arms, coaxing a shocked squeak from the smaller boy.

“He’s right D, you _are_ underweight.” He said shocked at just how light his friend was. They were soon on the move again; Wes running interference for them as they made their way to their dorm room.

* * *

“He should be downstairs celebrating right now.” David said softly; his eyes running over a Blaine-sized lump, wrapped in sheets and curled up in the middle of the bed opposite him.

“Yeah well, since when as anything been _that_ easy with him?” Nick asked from his spot, at Wes’s desk. The six seniors had piled into Wes and Blaine’s dorm room to discuss the plans for the rest of the week, but instead they had only been successful in watching Blaine sleep for the past twenty minutes. “Its like every time he seems to be doing better something comes along to blindside him.”

“We can’t let this happen again.” Thad whispered from his spot by the window. He was looking out over the grounds with hard eyes and pursed lips. “And sooner or later we’re going to have to hand his care over to a couple of trusted Juniors.”

“Oh fuck no.” Wes responded standing up form his desk his expression quickly switching to ‘ _pissed off_ ’. “I am _not_ putting him in the hands of others. Especially those who have no idea what he’s been through, and we can’t ask him to recount it again. If we did that, we would never put him back together in time for us leaving school. He’s already on a downwards spiral and this would fucking _destroy_ him.”

“Well then what’s _your_ big idea Montgomery? Thad replied harshly. “How are we going to see him through his last two years of school if we’re not here?”

“If we can get him early acceptance to any of the colleges we’re going to, he would only have to go through _one_.” Wes replied. “His grades are high enough to do it, and next year was supposed to be his senior year anyway.”

“Wes you’re forgetting the slight problem of the black hole in his education.” Nick replied. “If we had talked about this sooner, like at the _beginning_ of the year then maybe we could have managed it, but we’re now six weeks away form the summer and he’s wasted the past year with sophomore material.”

“No, he hasn’t.” Trent whispered from his spot at the foot of Blaine’s bed where he was sat, watching the younger boy sleep. The other Warblers turned to him with confusion all over their faces and he guessed that now was as good a time as any to ‘fess up. “When we’ve been working on homework together; I’ve been running him through the junior material as well as the sophomore stuff they’ve been giving him. That’s why Knowles stopped us on the staircase on Thursday, he’s been helping me all year, putting packages together for D to work through.”

“And you’re only mentioning this _now_?” Wes hissed dangerously. “For fuck’s sake Nixon, did it ever occur to you to come to any of us for _help_?”

“I didn’t want to get anyone to get their hopes up alright?” The boy replied, holding his hands up. “Not even D knows that he’s been working on it. We wanted to make sure that he could handle it before we put him in for exams, and up until Thursday we were still on the fence.”

“Why, what happened on Thursday?” Jeff asked. “What made him decide?”

“D’s latest physics homework.” Trent replied softly. “According to Knowles it is some of the most brilliant work he’s ever seen from a high school student. D is _smart_ guys, like crazy smart. If we can run him through the last few bits he needs, he could easily sit junior exams at the end of the year.”

“And send him into his senior year without any of us to keep him level?” Thad asked incredulously. “Are you fucking _serious_ Nixon? He’s barely holding it together as it is, and next year will come with a host of new problems, without him having the added stress of playing catch-up. He’ll need to keep his GPA above a four point five, not to mention all of the added extracurriculars that colleges like to see. If handing him off to a couple of juniors doesn’t break him, this right here; _will_.” Thad was breathing heavily after his rant, his eyes blown wide and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Wes shot a look at David who instantly understood that he needed to get the other boy out of the room.

“Come on Thad, let’s take a walk.” He said, getting up and steering his friend out of the room by his shoulder.

“I can’t believe that you didn’t come to us with this Trent.” Wes said heavily. “We could have helped.”

“Look guys, you have been going through enough this year without having to concentrate on Blaine’s education as well. I’ve been holding a 5-point GPA and already have college admittance to Harvard, giving me plenty of spare time to help tutor him. You guys have had your college applications, the Warblers, Hockey, Lacrosse and a tonne of other stuff going on. Not to mention that keeping him on an even keel has basically become a full-time job for all of us this year. This was something I could help with and I have. He’s smart, he’s strong and he’ll have plenty of options when it comes to early admittance. Not to mention that even though we won’t be here next year, we’ll always be on the other end of a phone for him. He _will_ get through this.”

“You have been keeping his GPA above four point five, teaching him stuff a year in advance _and_ keeping a perfect score yourself?” Jeff asked, his eye unbelieving. “Where the _fuck_ do you even find the time? _Or_ the energy?”

“Precisely my point.” Trent replied with a smug grin. “I did this because I’m the one who _could_ ; without endangering my own future. You guys wouldn’t have made it past the first two months without flunking, and Wes would have probably suffered a stroke by now.”

“Please tell me you’re planning on going into teaching.” Nick whispered; slightly in awe of their baby-faced friend.

“I thought I’d take a couple of other majors first.” Trent replied with a shrug. “I was torn between Experimental Psychology or Neurobiology so I chose both.”

“You’re _insane_.” Jeff whispered. Trent grinned and answered with another shrug.

“You really think that you can get him where he needs to be by the end of the year?” Wes asked. “It’s going to be a pretty big fucking deal if you fail and we don’t have a back-up.”

“Guys trust me, he’ll be ready.”

“Do we tell him?” Nick asked, glancing over to where the younger boy was slumbering peacefully, oblivious to the chaos around him.

“Fuck no! Are you crazy?” Wes asked harshly. “We don’t breathe a _word_ of this to him until he’s sat his exams. He’ll freak out if we do.”

“I agree.” Trent replied. “What he doesn’t know, won’t be able to hurt him in the long run.”

They fell back into a silence after that, going back to watching their friend sleep and mulling over the fact that the rest of their school year was about to get _much_ busier.


	6. Time

“So how pissed did you all get last night?” Blaine asked, clutching the strap of his bag as he and Wes made their way down to breakfast. He felt better this morning. His migraine had successfully been fought off, and he’d actually gotten a half decent night’s sleep.

“We didn’t.” His roommate replied candidly. “We seniors ditched and ended up spending the evening chatting in our dorm. It’s a miracle we didn’t wake you up.”

“What could have been so important as to require a full-scale board meeting?” Blaine asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing you need to worry about yet.” Wes replied with a grin. “All I’ll say is get ready for Nationals preps, because I’m gonna do my absolute best to murder the lot of you with dance practice.”

“I worry about you sometimes.” Blaine replied as they joined the queue for breakfast. “And, I’ll have you know that my dance moves are fucking _flawless_ , thank you very much.”

“If you class your furniture parkour as dancing, then I’m not the one we should be worried about. I keep telling you that someday you’re going to end up breaking a leg, and then I really _will_ murder you for being an idiot.”

“You’re the idiot.” Blaine replied with a grin. “I’m the genius amongst us remember? At least, that’s what you were telling me last week. Oh, how quickly you change your tune Wesley. I think I’m a little broken-hearted.” Blaine gave his best puppy dog eyes and Wes promptly burst out into full scale laughter, Blaine joining in seconds behind him.

“Well it looks like someone’s happy this morning.” Trent said in lieu of a greeting; bouncing over to the pair of boys who were still trying to get their breathing under control. “I take it you slept okay?”

“I slept fine Trent.” Blaine replied, sobering slightly to grab his friend’s wrist. “Thank you.”

“You are always welcome.” The other boy replied with a soft smile. “Don’t forget we have our study session tonight. I have some stuff from Mr Knowles to run through with you.”

“Six in the library?” Blaine asked.

“Same as always. I’ll see you guys later.”

“He’s way too much of a morning person.” Blaine remarked shaking his head ad Trent’s retreating back. They quickly sorted their breakfasts out and were soon sat chatting on one of the tables near the windows; enjoying the early morning peacefulness of the dining hall. He’d seen Wes’s concern when he’d only picked up an apple and a banana, so in order to try, for his friend’s sake; he’d also added a bowl of granola to his tray. Something which he was now regretting.

“You can’t finish it can you?” Wes asked quietly, watching the younger boy push his cereal around in his bowl. He shook his head and pushed his tray to one side; leaning back in his chair to finish his coffee.

“I’m not very hungry as of late.” He admitted. “You know, I honestly started to believe that even though I wouldn’t have you guys after the summer, that I’d be okay. I thought that at least I’d have Kurt to talk to…”

“Don’t do this to yourself Devon.” Wes whispered, glancing around to make sure their conversation remained semi-private. “We might not be here in person but you better believe that we’ll be on the other end of that phone twenty-four seven. You won’t be alone. My dad is still going to be here if you need anything, and the rest of the team will help if you need it.”

“I just… I’m sort of scared of being here on my own, without you guys. You are the reason I’m here Wes. You are the reason I’m still alive. I know that; because I can admit to myself now that if things had been different, if you hadn’t gotten to know me, or if I’d ended up in a different dorm; that I wouldn’t have lasted four months.”

“Don’t say that Dev.” Wes whispered, reaching out across the table, only to find Blaine’s hand flinch away from his. “You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. I have to believe that you would have made it, with or without my intervention.”

“Well you’re wrong.” Blaine’s voice is harsh but there’s no anger behind it, only bitterness. “I’m no where near as strong as I need to be. I’m terrified of not just the next couple of years, but of what comes _after_. You can’t hold my hand all the way through my life. I need to be _better_.”

“Devon look at me, please?” Wes pleads, trying to catch the younger boy’s eye. It took a few minutes but finally Blaine makes tentative eye contact and Wes can see just how close to the edge his roommate is. ‘ _Its only half seven in the morning and we’re heading for a fucking breakdown_ ’; He thinks bitterly, and Nick’s words from the previous night sprung to mind. “You’re right. I can’t be here to hold your hand for the rest of your life. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t pick up the phone when you ring, or come running when you truly need me and considering the fact that two years ago today, you were still in a _coma_ , I’d say that you’ve come pretty fucking far in a relatively short space of time.”

“But I need to be _better_.” Blaine whispered again.

“Then let us help get you there.” Wes replied. “Shutting us out, shutting _me_ out, is the last possible route you wanna go down right now. We only have a few weeks left before the summer, so let’s try and use them wisely yeah? I know this isn’t just about the gelfling. I know you have so much more going on right now, but Devon, you don’t have to go through it _alone_.”

“I’m trying.” Blaine whispered; his eyes staring pointedly at a spot on the table in front of him.

“I know you are Dev.” Wes replied kindly and softly. “And you have been doing so well. It has been a privilege to see how much your confidence has raised these past few months. But you have to remember that sometimes it’s okay not to be okay, and that we’re all here for you when you have a bad day, or week or even _month_ , because there is nothing that makes us prouder than watching you grow into your own person, and we understand that there are going to be bumps along that road.”

“I just feel so _confused_ all the time.” The younger boy replied. “And I’ve been trying to get a handle on my overbearingness but it’s _exhausting_. I know that I scare a lot of people off because of how _much_ I can be sometimes, and I know that I can be controlling and self-centred and half the time I don’t understand any of the jokes you guys tell… I guess what I’m trying to say, is that I love you guys to death, and you have all been there for me through the nightmare that has been the last couple of years but…”

“But what Devon?” Wes prompted softly.

“Because I’ve had you guys, I haven’t made enough of an effort to make any friends in my year, and now I’m _terrified_ of being here alone, with a stranger as a roommate and no one to talk to if I need it. I know that you guys are always going to be on the other end of the phone if I ever need to chat, but you won’t be _here_.” There wasn’t much else Wes could say to that. In a way Blaine was right, he barely spent any time around the rest sophomores, his extra year in age and his multitude of experiences creating a huge maturity gap between him and the rest of his classmates. Apart from the few junior guys in The Warblers, Blaine didn’t know many of the next year’s seniors either, and it was increasingly becoming a concern, the faster the end of the year approached.

“I can’t tell you what is going to happen next year. I’m not a fortune teller or a character out of those Harry Potter books you’re so fond of, but I can help with what happens between now and then. If there are guys here that you think you could come to trust, then let’s start building you a new network in the next few weeks. Because you’re _right_ , you need someone here next year, who you can trust yourself to go to if you need the sort of help, we provide. Let’s make the best of these last few weeks, and try and enjoy ourselves whilst we’re all still together, that includes you talking to me whenever you need to. Deal?” He held his hand out and Blaine reluctantly shook it with a nod.

“Deal.”

* * *

“I need to speak to him.” Kurt said sharply, approaching David, who had apparently become his constant shadow since the previous Thursday. “I know you guys feel like you’re protecting him by keeping me away, but you at least need to give me the chance to apologise. You owe me that after booting me from the team.” They were currently in the corridor, leading to the dining hall, and Kurt had caught the council member leaning up against a panelled wall, not so subtly watching him.

“We don’t _owe_ you anything.” David replied shortly, his calm mask slipping away to reveal his uncharacteristic anger. “Your first transgression _could_ have been forgiven. Wes had spoken to you and it could have been forgotten and moved on from, but what you said to Blaine, Thursday morning _was_ unforgivable. You have no clue as to _any_ of our stories, who we were before we came here, and _why_. You have been so busy, strutting around the place, owning your public-school past; that you have not once stopped to consider that you might not be the only abuse case here. You have looked at us Kurt Hummel, and judged us, and we have obviously been found wanting. You will get your chance to apologise only if and when Blaine wants to hear it. No sooner.”

“But…”

“Our decision is clear Hummel.” David cut in. “And if you try and harass him, we _will_ report you.” David looked pensieve for a moment, gazing down the corridor, towards the staircase he and Blaine had first met on and a bitter smile appeared on his face. “You know, when he turned up that day, dragging you down the corridor by the hand, and a huge, stupid grin on his face, we were so _hopeful_ , that you would do him some good. That you would help heal what is left of his scars, chase away the last of his ghosts. We welcomed you with open arms because we saw how happy you made him, and Blaine hasn’t had much in his life to be happy _about_.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Of course, you don’t.” David replied. “ _We_ allowed you to join The Warblers, _we_ helped him work his practises and school work around spending time with you, _we_ sat and listened when he spoke about how you stood up to your bullies, and how proud of you he was. _We_ sat with him through it _all_ , and yet you barely even notice us, or the work we do with him, and the first chance you get to belittle us, that is exactly what you do. You were his hero Kurt, and the image that he had of you, crashed and burned before his very eyes, so now _we_ will be the ones to piece his confidence back together.”

“But Blaine never told me he was having problems.” Kurt whispered.

“Of course, he didn’t.” David snorted in response. “He was too busy piling _your_ problems onto his own shoulders, because he is too damn selfless to have done anything less. The last few weeks have all been about making sure _you’re_ safe, helping you with _your_ bullies, welcoming you to Dalton and making sure you get settled in okay. Making sure that you get a place on the team, to help you feel more at home, and the sad thing is, that as soon as the situation at your old school is resolved, you will just get up and go back to the perfect friends you never stop talking about, and it’s going to be _us_ that pick up the pieces of your departure. _We_ are the ones who will have to deal with the heartbreak, and the tears, and the outbursts, because Blaine has problems handling these things on his own. And you’re too wrapped up in your little delusional world to see it.”

“I’m trying to understand _now_.” Kurt ground out. “I _want_ to see.”

“Now is too _late_.” David snapped, attracting the attention of some passing sophomores. He waved them off and let them pass, using the time to collect himself before he turned back to the boy in front of him. “Now is _way_ too late to undo what you have done, to unsay everything you have said to him. _You_ have single-handedly done more damage to Blaine in the last four days, than that small-minded brain of yours can possibly comprehend. You make a great show about being accepting, about wanting to be accepted and about how bigotry chased you away from your last school, but the painful truth is Hummel, that you have a whole set of bigotries of your own. You think that because your dad works a blue-collar job, and you have to fight for everything in your life, that it makes you any better than _us_? Well, it’s time for some home-truths on _that_ part. You have more freedom in your life than any of us put together. You have _choices_ when you leave high school. Many of us are expected to go into our family businesses, whether we want to or not, because when you come from money, _nothing_ is free, and image is _everything_.”

With that final parting jab, David turned and stalked off down the corridor, not trusting himself not to snap and completely lose it with the ‘ _mutant gelfling_ ’, as Wes had started to put it. He knew that Jeff and Nick were walking Blaine to lunch, so had no worries about Kurt trying to make an approach. Not even _he_ was stupid enough to mess with either of them.

It wasn’t _fair_. Blaine had been doing so well. His confidence had soared, his face was smiling more than it was frowning, his nightmares had started to disappear and suddenly, _months_ of progress had started to go down the drain. David wasn’t blind, he knew that Blaine’s spiral had started well before the incident the previous week, and after hearing what had _actually_ been said, he had no problems in blaming Kurt for the path his friend had been heading down.

He just hoped that they had caught it in time.


	7. Lightbulb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another chapter half way there already, so expect an update tomorrow as well. I'm not sure if my muse will allow another one on Monday, but keep an eye out, just in case!

Blaine slid the case out from under his bed and stared at it, his eyes unable to tear themselves away. In the end, it had taken a re-stringing, _and_ a new bow, before the tech at Rettig deemed it suitable to play, and he wondered if that is what it had taken him. Had he needed a full new set of strings, being one too many short? Had he been needing to replace something inside of himself? Is this what it was like to be repaired after being locked away in the back of a cupboard for so long? Was a new set of strings and a bit of polish enough to hide the cracks that still felt like they were spiderwebbing their way across his sanity?

Maybe Wes had been right. Maybe he needed to finally move on and _do_ something about his situation. The problem was, that he’d spent the last two years, bemoaning the fact that he’d had to repeat, that he’d forgotten that high school had to end at some point. He’d buried that idea down into himself, because for at least the first six months he’d been utterly convinced that he wouldn’t make it through until college. He’d been so certain that he was going to fall at every hurdle that he’d completely disregarded the marching of time.

He lifted the case onto the bed and undid the latch, opening it up to reveal the instrument inside. The instrument that had been the last Christmas present his father had ever given him. The truth was, that after he’d come out; his father had barely spoken two words to him. There had been plenty of cuffs up the side of his head when he’d said or done something _particularly_ stupid, but no more friendly pats on the back after a soccer game, no more proud nods when he’d hit the right notes at competitions, no more working out in the garage late at night on the car they’d promised to work together on. It was like he’d stopped _existing_.

And then the attack had happened. He’d been so _selfish_ and _stupid_ to have let it happen to him. He should have fought back, he should have not gone to the stupid dance in the first place, and stayed home instead. He’d put them both through so much, and they’d had to cancel their holiday plans to babysit him whilst he learnt to do the most basic of things all over again. Was there any wonder they’d dumped him into a boarding school and practically washed their hands of him? His father had been very clear that he _wasn’t_ paying for a shrink, unless it was to talk to him about his _lifestyle_ choices.

“Screw him.” Blaine muttered, lifting the violin out of its case. “Screw both of them.” He lifted the instrument into his neck and picked up the brand-new bow. A couple of deep breaths was all it took for him to finally be ready to attempt to play. His first few attempts were painful. The screeching of a clumsy hand, making him physically wince. He spent about an hour, attempting to play before angrily shoving the violin back in its case and kicking it back under his bed with a growl.

Why was everything so difficult for him now? Things that had come easy just two years ago were now a challenge. He knew that he had been extremely lucky. He was walking, and talking and he could feed himself and still _sing_. But it was the small things that he came across every day that now seemed like a brand-new puzzle to him. He knew that he missed social cues constantly; the GAP attack had shown him that, and he consistently struggled to understand the banter that flew backwards and forwards so easily between the rest of The Warblers, and when he was in the changing room of the gym.

Lightbulb.

He ripped open his wardrobe door and divested himself of his uniform, pulling out a pair of joggers, a training vest and a zip-up hoodie. He quickly changed and grabbed his gym bag, making sure to check that he’d not forgotten his tape before rushing out of the dorm room and down the stairs, to the exit that would take him to the school’s outbuildings. He jogged down the path; reaching the school’s various pitches and changing rooms, using the distance as a warm up.

His hands may not have been steady enough for the violin right now, but there was nothing to say that they wouldn’t be able to beat the _shit_ out of a bag for a few hours.

* * *

“Have you seen Blaine?” Wes asked, when Nick opened the door to his and Jeff’s dorm room.

“Not since last period. He said he didn’t feel like dinner and was going to spend some time getting to know an old friend, or something like that.” Nick replied with a frown. “It seemed a little odd but seeing as he made his way straight up to your room, we assumed he’d be safe.”

“I’ve been with Trent and Knowles all evening, trying to figure out what I can do to help with his work for the exams.” Wes replied desperately. “He isn’t in the room and his uniform has been shoved in the laundry basket.”

“Have you checked if his gym bag is there?” Jeff asked, his face appearing next to Nicks as he cracked the door open some more.

“Shit I didn’t think of that.” Wes muttered, disappearing back into their room. He opened up his roommate’s wardrobe and sure enough, the black duffel that usually lived on the top shelf was conspicuously missing.

“Told you.” Jeff said with a grin as he entered their dorm, flopping down onto Wes’s bed. “You know better than I that he feels the need to punch something heavy for a few hours every now and then.”

“What time is it?” Wes asked worriedly.

“Just gone eight.”

“Last period finished at five.” He replied frantically. “We need to move. Like now!” Jeff disappeared back next door as Wes pulled off his uniform and changed into a set of lounge clothes. He grabbed his key and spent about ten seconds bashing on Jeff and Nick’s door before he was rewarded with a _very_ pissed off Nick.

“Fucking Christ’s sake Montgomery.” He snarled, he and Jeff leaving their room, both dressed in lounge clothes. “We’re coming.” Wes didn’t deign them with an answer and instead took off down the main staircase and through the double doors, out to the grounds. The three boys made quick time as they sprinted across the wet grass, towards the pitches, their breaths heavy and their feet thumping as concerns flew through their heads.

Wes just hoped that they weren’t too late.

* * *

There was a steady, rhythmic thumping coming from inside the darkened gym, accompanied by growls of anger and frustration. The lights went out officially at seven in the various outbuildings, but the gym wasn’t locked until nine and there were several side lights that students could turn on if they were making use of the building; leaving the gym floor looking like something out of a Rocky movie, rather than a high school facility. Wes put his finger to his lips as he looked back at Nick and Jeff. They were in the corridor that connected the gym to the changing rooms and they could clearly hear someone going for it on a heavy bag. They all crept forwards, not wanting to startle the boy, and Wes softly pushed open the gym door; his eyes widening when he caught sight of Blaine, drenched in sweat, tears, and fuck was that _blood_?

“Devon, stop!” Wes shouted as Blaine went to take another swing at the bag. The younger boy started and shrank back to hit the back wall, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Wes rushed forwards and grabbed Blaine’s wrists; unstrapping the gloves and tossing them to one side. “You’re bleeding for fuck’s sake.” He growled, using his own t-shirt to wipe the blood away from Blaine’s face.

“Was training.” The younger boy gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Got a nosebleed. No biggie.”

“Yes, it is a biggie.” Wes snarled, grabbing his friend’s wrists and leading him over to a bench, accepting the water bottle that Nick passed him, with a grim expression. “Drink.” He ordered, steadying the bottle when he realised that Blaine’s hands were shaking violently from strain and exertion. “What the fuck were you thinking coming down here without a buddy?” He asked. “You could have passed out and no one would have known. Look at what you are doing to your body Devon.”

“I couldn’t play.” Blaine gasped, tears rolling down his cheeks and his breathing still heavy. “Hands weren’t steady enough so I decided to beat the shit out of that thing for a while.” He gestured towards the bag, which had now been steadied by Jeff. Understanding dawned on Wes as he realised just _what_ Blaine had been attempting to play.

“That’s no excuse for this though Dev.” He said, softening his tone. “Your nose has been bleeding for a while and your knuckles are bruised to fuck. You could have seriously hurt yourself.”

“It’s just a nosebleed.” Blaine replied in confusion.

“With your medical history and reoccurring migraines your nosebleed could be something really serious Dev. How often do you get them?” Blaine shrugged in response to that and Wes forced down his rising anger. “Not a good enough answer Devon. Try again.”

“Sometimes if I’m training for too long. Don’t really keep track.”

“This is exactly the type of thing you _should_ be keeping track of.” Wes ground out. “This is your health and it’s _important_.”

“It’s not that big of a deal okay?” Blaine shouted, flying up from the bench with a growl. “It’s _just_ a nosebleed. I had a migraine on Monday and I’ve not exactly been sleeping well, so it’s normal for me to get one after working out for the last two hours. I’m _fine_ stop mothering me all the time. I just need time to _breathe_.” The younger boy was all tension and clenched jaw after that rant; breathing heavily as he glared at Wes. “I’m not a _child._ ” He half sobbed. All of his carefully constructed restraint had been left behind in the dorms and he wanted nothing more in that minute than to continue punching the heavy bag. But he was _tired_ and hungry and he needed a shower. He gathered up his gloves and turned his back on his three friends, who for once, seemed out of words; stalking towards the changing rooms for a hot shower and a protein bar from his bag.


	8. Crash into Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that you are all going to hate me for this chapter.  
> And that is the only warning I'm going to give you.
> 
> The song I used is Crash Into Me, Darren's version which he recorded with Steve Aoki, because its Darren and it fit better than the original does. (Not really but that's the excuse I'm sticking with lol.)

_You've got your ball, you've got your chain  
Tied to me tight, tie me up again  
Who's got their claws in you my friend?  
Into your heart I'll beat again  
Sweet like candy to my soul  
Sweet you rock, and sweet you roll  
Lost for you, I'm so lost, for you,_

“Come out for coffee with me tonight?” He asked bluntly when he finally tracked the other boy down after _two_ fucking days of his friends playing games. The tension in his dorm had been so thick he could taste it, and the previous night, it had spilled over to Warbler practise, with him storming out after yet _another_ snarky comment from Wes about his health.

“What?”

“I said coffee, tonight, Lima Bean.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea…”

“Which is why it is the best fucking idea in the world right now. You wanted to talk, and I need something to take my mind off _other_ things. So, let’s call it a date, I’ll be waiting for you by the car after class.” He needed a distraction, and he needed it _badly_. The senior boys had been his constant shadows since Wednesday morning, and he was fully aware that they had made it their mission to keep him and Kurt at opposite ends of the school.

He and Wes had barely spoken, the other boy being pissed off at his apparent lack of concern over his own health, and _him_ being pissed off at the feeling of being smothered by the older boys. He’d taken to hiding out in various places around the school; slipping back into the dorm just before the ten o’clock curfew, and jumping straight into the shower, and then into bed. His avoidance job was working so far, but he knew it wouldn’t last, _especially_ if Wes found out about the stunt he was currently pulling.

Trent was the only one who seemed unfazed by it all, and they had been meeting regularly in the library for their study sessions as normal. After an initial inquiry into how he was doing, and whether he was suffering any ill effects of his training incident (apart from the badly bruised knuckles and muscle strains), he’d backed off and left him to it. Blaine knew that the questions had come from Wes, they’d been a little _too_ specific for Trent, but he’d humoured the older boy because he knew that they were worried about him.

And it was _Trent_ , you just couldn’t upset the baby-faced senior without feeling like a grade-A douche.

_Oh, you come crash into me, yeah  
Baby, and I come into you  
And I come into you_

“I was going to meet Mercedes.” Kurt replied, stammering a little; a flush colouring his cheeks. Kurt was fun, they had common interests, they liked each other, what was wrong with wanting to spend time around the other boy?

“Great, she can come too.”

“Blaine… I…”

“After class, by the car.” Blaine replied, cutting off whatever Kurt was building up to say. “Wear something nice.” He stalked away, towards, the dining room glad of the imminent distraction, if only to give him something else to think about for a while. If he’d been thinking _straight_ , he’d probably have realised that this was a terrible idea, but he needed a night off campus and in truth, he still enjoyed Kurt’s presence. He was _not_ a child. He could make his own decisions and _would_ be doing so for the foreseeable future; the rest of his friends be damned.

He passed a furious looking Thad on his way down the corridor, and he gave they older boy a smirk and a wink. He knew that it would come back to bite him on the ass but in that moment, he couldn’t give less of a shit. He had a date with Kurt and Mercedes to look forward to. That was a good thing, right?

* * *

“Tell me it isn’t true Devon Anderson!” Wes thundered as he all but tore their door off its hinges and stormed into their dorm; tossing his bag onto his bed. “Tell me that Thad is going fucking _delusional_ , because I know you wouldn’t do this to yourself again!”

“It’s none of your business what I do.” Blaine replied with a sneer. “I’m not a child.”

“None of our business?” Wes asked faintly, his rage making his voice quiet and dangerous. “None of our _fucking_ business? Are you actually fucking with me Anderson? Because the last time I checked, you were on the verge of a breakdown because of that asshole!”

_Crash into me_ _  
Crash into me  
Crash, crash into me  
Crash into me  
Crash into me  
Crash, crash into me_

“This is my choice Wes.” Blaine replied, packing his things into his messenger bag and throwing on a blue and white striped, boat necked sweater. The thin line of a scar was just showing, as it snaked its way across his right shoulder and he rubbed it unconsciously. He was often wary about showing off his body; his scars especially, but he liked this sweater; and paired with a pair of dark blue chinos and boating shoes; it made him feel good to look in the mirror. “I can make my own decisions and my own mistakes.”

“Then don’t come crying to us the next time it all goes fucking wrong.” Wes growled. “We aren’t going to be here to pick you up from the floor every time you do something _stupid_.” Blaine froze at that. It was the one thing that Wes had never called him. It was the one word they never _said_. The one word that had the capacity to throw out all of his carefully crafted restraint and plunge him into an instant breakdown. Images of his father, shouting the same thing at him, flashed through his mind and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Wes knew what he had done because he’d gone sheet white; his eyes huge and his hand over his mouth. “Blaine… I…”

“Don’t.” He ground out harshly, working on focusing his breathing. He was _not_ going to have a fucking _breakdown_ before he’d even left the dorm. He was _not_ going to turn up to the one thing he was actually looking forward to with tear tracks on his face and his eyes red and blotchy. He _refused_ to let this overtake him so he swallowed down the lump in the back of his throat and stuck another sticky plaster over his sanity.

“I didn’t mean it… Fuck.” Wes reached out to him, only for Blaine to slap his hand away sharply.

“I said don’t!” He screamed at the older boy, getting in Wes’s face as he shoved him against the bathroom door. The older boy put up no fight but he looked _terrified_ and sweet satisfaction bloomed in his stomach at the power he could currently wield over his roommate. “Don’t _ever_ presume to think you care for me when you can come out with shit like that. Because I _will_ challenge you to the ring, and you _will_ lose.” He breathed angrily. “Leave me the _fuck_ alone.” He grabbed his bag; slinging it over his shoulder and stormed out of the door, hair still a mass of gel-free curls and his breathing heavy.

_Touch your lips just so I know_ _  
In your eyes, love, it glows so  
I'm bare boned, and crazy for you  
If I've gone overboard  
Then I'm begging you  
To forgive me oh in my haste  
When I'm holding you so girl  
Close to me_

* * *

The rage bubbled inside him; white hot and threatening to burst out of his chest. He’d been lucky that he was just about ready to go, and that his bag was already packed with his wallet, phone and keys. He couldn’t face going back to their room right now, and so he stormed out towards his car; unlocking it and practically throwing his bag onto the back seat.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked nervously as he approached the seriously pissed off looking boy. He looked his date up and down with appreciation for the tight clothes, but he couldn’t stop the slight widening of his eyes as he saw the distinctive white of a large scar, poking out of the neck of Blaine’s jumper.

_And you come_ _  
Crash into me, yeah  
Baby, and I come into you_

“Ready to go?” Blaine asked, a smile half-flickering over his face as he looked over to Kurt, seemingly not noticing his distress.

“Erm yeah.” The other boy replied, placing his bag next to Blaine’s on the back seat and getting into the car. Blaine paused for a minute as a figure appeared on the top of Dalton’s steps and Kurt gaped when the other boy merely flipped the bird before sliding into the driver’s seat. “Was that Wes?” He asked anxiously; the atmosphere Blaine was radiating; setting him on edge.

“Yeah, but he can go fuck himself. I plan on making my own decisions now.” Blaine replied; backing out of his parking space and leaving the campus. “You call Mercedes?” He asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.

“Erm, yeah; she said she’d meet us there.” Kurt replied nervously. “Look Blaine…”

“Don’t Kurt.” Was the tight reply. “Can we just enjoy tonight? No apologies, no heavy conversations, just coffee and good company.” Kurt nodded and sat back in his seat, his hands twisting together as they headed away from campus.

It took less time than he thought it ought to for them to reach the café, and Blaine pulled his car into the lot and turned to smile at him, his anger mostly dissipated, but his shoulders still a little tenser than Kurt was used to seeing them.

“Sorry I haven’t been good conversation so far.” He said, a hint of nervousness poking through. “Wes and I had an argument as I came out and I guess it’s just taken me some time to calm down from it.”

“It’s okay.” Kurt replied; most of his anxiety slipping away. “I thought I’d done something to make you angry.”

“You could never make me angry Kurt.” Blaine replied with an easy smile, and his conversation with David from Tuesday, flashed through his memory. ‘ _He was too busy piling_ your _problems onto his own shoulders, because he is too damn selfless to have done anything less._ ’ Kurt forced the memory out of his mind and tried to concentrate. “Let’s go get ourselves a table and wait for Mercedes.”

_Crash into me_ _  
Crash into me  
Crash, crash into me  
Crash into me  
Crash into me  
Crash, crash into me_

* * *

They had been sticking to safe topics for the last hour; their collective draw at regionals, plans for the weekend, gossip from McKinley.

“I’m telling you guys that tomorrow’s Night of Neglect is going to be great.” Mercedes said with a grin. “You two should come.”

“I don’t think…”

“Oh, come on Kurt, it’s a great idea, we should totally go.” Blaine cut off his date with a grin. “I know you really miss everyone, and what better way to support them than helping them out with ticket sales?” Kurt seemed to mull it over for a minute or two before nodding decisively.

“It’s not like I’m your competition any more anyway.” He said with a shrug, sending a stab of unease into Blaine’s stomach.

“And there’s no way that Kurt’s going anywhere near McKinley without me.” Blaine added. “Not when Karofsky’s still there.” He mentally patted himself on the back for a solid piece of deflection as Mercedes started to give them a quick run-down of the night and he let her and Kurt chat as he sat back and sipped on his coffee. He would have to do something about Kurt’s place on The Warblers before any more awkward questions could be asked. The problem was that he was going to need to be sneaky if he was going to get Wes, David and Nick to agree to anything.

_I'm king of the castle  
You're my dirty rascal  
Crash into me  
Crash into me  
I'm king of the castle  
You're my dirty rascal  
Crash into me  
Crash into me_

That was okay though. Sneaky he could do.

* * *

“He’s where!” David yelled; flying up from the couch in the practice room. Wes had called an emergency meeting between all of them, and was afraid that the dorms were too public to have this conversation. God forbid someone walk past the door whilst they were fighting. At least the practice room’s doors were just about soundproof when fully closed, and the school had to be more or less silent before anything could be made out through them.

“You just let him fucking go?!” Jeff added, throwing his hat into the ring.

_Oh, I watch you there  
Through the window  
And I stare at you  
You wear nothing but you  
Wear it so well  
Tied up and twisted  
The way I'd like to be  
For you, for me, come crash  
Into me_

“I didn’t have much of a choice guys.” Wes admitted heavily; worry for his roommate feeling heavy on his shoulders. “After what happened on Tuesday night we have barely spoken, and you have all admitted that he’s avoiding you.”

“Except Trent.” Thad said, shooting the boy in question a questioning look.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not treating him like a five-year-old.” Trent replied pointedly. “After what happened last weekend, D was bound to feel like he was being smothered. And he _is_ right when he says that he isn’t a child. As much as we want to protect him, he’s going to eventually learn to make his own mistakes, and bounce back from them.” He held his hand up to stop the impeding tirade and he shot them all an uncharacteristic glare. “I am _not_ suggesting that we abandon him, quite the opposite in fact, this is a huge moment for him moving forwards. If he’s going to have any chance of surviving next year, he’s going to need to learn how to deal with social situations that may have caught him off guard. What I _am_ suggesting is that we let him have his small victory now, take a step back and see how things go, and if anything happens, we can be here to help him understand and to pick him back up. He’s going to have to learn to navigate the social intricacies of gaining new friends, and at least with Hummel here, we can keep an eye on the situation.”

“What about the short-term fallout?” Wes asked quietly.

“You mean what can you do after calling him _that_ word?” Trent asked, completely unimpressed. He had chewed the other boy out mercilessly when he had discovered what had gone down in the dorm before Blaine’s departure, and he’d succeeded in turning the air, all colourful shades of blue. He’d been quite impressed with himself afterwards, as Wes had appeared terrified of him.

“I still can’t believe you said it.” Jeff whispered.

“Neither can I.” Wes replied guiltily. “I have no idea how it happened, it just slipped out.”

“Well you can’t take it back.” David butted in. “I’m not sure _how_ you’re going to fix this, or even if you _can_. We all know what Blaine connects that word to, and I’m impressed that he avoided a full-scale meltdown there on the spot.” Wes groaned and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at his temples as a headache started to flare. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder and found Trent looking down at him with a sad, understanding half-smile. That was the thing with Trent, he was _extremely_ slow to anger, but when he did it was usually explosive. But it never lasted long and he never held grudges, his sweet and forgiving nature was what had fully earned him the position of ‘ _sunshine of the group_ ’.

“Blaine _will_ forgive you Wes.” He said softly. “But you have to be honest and sincere with your apology, and you have to make up for this last week. Things between you have gotten toxic, and if Blaine can’t feel like his dorm is his safe space, then I’m afraid that our last two years’ worth of work have been a failure. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel and I have no doubt that you guys will be fine.”

“So, there’s nothing we can do about Hummel then?” Nick asked, his voice resigned.

“Not right now.” Trent answered. “But if we are going to be taking a step back then the council have to be fully prepared for D making an indirect approach to get him back on the team.” He held up his hand again, cutting off cries of denial and he shot them all another glare. “Hear me out.” He said pointedly. “If we’re going to repair things with D, we’re going to have to allow him some leverage. And it isn’t the worst idea to keep Kurt where we can see him. We can keep an eye on him if most of his time spent with D is going to be in _this_ room. We have to be prepared to make concessions, and as far as concessions go, this isn’t going to be the worst one that Blaine could come up with.”

“He threatened me with the ring.” Wes whispered.

“And that is a demand that might still go ahead.” Trent said with a nod. “The Foxtrot-Charlie board will be notified, and you have to remember that as reigning champion; Blaine has the right to challenge _anyone_. That was what you signed up for.” Thad couldn’t help but grin at that and his response of; ‘ _This is going to be a fucking train wreck_ ’ was not appreciated by any of them.

_Crash into me  
Crash into me  
Crash, crash into me  
Crash into me  
Crash into me  
Crash, crash into me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be mad at me, or Blaine. He's confused, and hurting.  
> He deserves hugs, and cinnamon rolls, and cronuts.   
> Please don't be mad at him.


	9. Stash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a huge thank you to those of you who have left comments. It means a lot that you take the time to write them and I am very much appreciative that you do.
> 
> This is a bit of a bonus chapter, as I had it finished and it's just been sat, burning a hole in it's folder until I couldn't take it any more and just had to post it. I have another chapter in the works, but I only started it today so I can't promise it will be finished in time for tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading, now on to the chapter!

He couldn’t help but let the nerves take over as he switched off the ignition to his car. He’d dropped Kurt off at his dad’s house, promising to pick him up the following afternoon for McKinley’s Night of Neglect and to bring him back to Dalton afterwards. He was glad that his date hadn’t returned with him, as it would only cause questions when he inevitably let on that his argument with Wes was more than he’d made it out to be. The truth was though, that he was shitting himself about returning to the dorm room, and if he thought that he could get away with it, he’d go down and sleep in the gym, or in the Warbler’s common room, but he knew that without at least a blanket he’d be _freezing_. Not to mention that chinos weren’t exactly the most comfortable of sleeping attire.

Unless…

He turned reached into the back seat and pulled out his bag, getting out of the car and locking it before tucking his keys away and heading up to the school doors. He checked that the coast was clear of his shadows before hurrying down the darkened corridor to the practice room. He pressed his ear to the door and only once he was satisfied that the space was empty; did he push open the doors and slip into the commons. He closed them back up behind him and clicked the lock into place before heading into the far corner of the room, and the adjoining office that was never used. He headed for the old cabinet against the back wall and started rifling through it for the rest of the supplies he’d stashed there, the previous year.

“Are you looking for these?” Asked a voice behind him; making him jump, and he spun around only to be hit in the face with a pair of joggers, a hoodie and a quilt. “Yeah, I found your stash.” Wes said quietly, taking a couple of steps towards him. On instinct; he backed himself into the wall, keeping a hold on his clothes but allowing the quilt to drop to the floor. He pressed himself into the space where the cabinet met the wall, and tried to calm his breathing.

He was in deep shit. The things he’d said to his roommate, earlier that night were unforgivable, and even though his anger towards the other boy had not completely dissipated, he knew that he owed Wes an apology.

“I’m sor…”

“Don’t you _dare_ fucking apologise.” Wes growled before seemingly biting down his anger. Blaine knew that he’d messed up, but for the older boy to not even hear him out… “Do you have any idea what you put me through when you pull shit like this?” The boy asked, frustration in his voice, and with every word his friend uttered it felt like a knife was being pushed into his side. “You have _nothing_ to apologise for.” Oh… Wait, what?

“But I…”

“You have no idea how happy I am to see that you’re safe.” Wes breathed out, moving closer to him. “I’ve been so worried that you’d have an accident, and it would be all my fault.” Wait, was Wes _crying_? “I should never have said what I did to you. I understand that we have been smothering you, and god Devon you must have felt like you were _suffocating_ , but I never meant to hurt you, and I _never_ meant to call you stupid. I’m so, so sorry.” God he was so confused. Why was Wes of all people sorry? _He’d_ been the one to threaten a fight. Wes must have seen the confusion on his face because he was suddenly being wrapped into a hug by his still crying roommate, who’d looked like he’d aged five years in the past few hours.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying to understand what he’d done to make the other boy apologise to _him_. “I don’t understand why you’re not mad at me.”

“Oh, I’m fucking _furious_.” Wes replied, pulling back to hold onto his shoulders and make eye contact. “You ran off and got in a car when you were angry, and after what I said to you…”

“But I deserved it.” Blaine replied with a frown. “You had every right to call me stupid. That’s what I am most of the time, and right now I’m feeling so confused as to why you aren’t mad about what _I_ said to _you_.”

“Oh Blaine.” Wes breathed, pulling him back into a hug. The younger boy buried his head into Wes’s collarbone and decided to try not to think on it too much. They were obviously in a better place than they had been all week, and right now he was going to enjoy that feeling. “Trent will go through all of this with you.” Wes whispered after a while. “We know that you struggle with these things, and that _isn’t_ your fault. Trent can help you to understand. Right now, I just need you to promise me that you’ll _never_ get in a car angry again. Can you do that for me?” He felt Blaine nod against his neck and he tightened his hold on his friend. “And, I need you to promise, that no matter how much we fight, no matter how much trouble you think you’ll be in, that you always come back to the dorm. It is your safe space Devon, and I don’t want you sleeping down here anymore. Do you understand me?” Another nod and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Then can we go up to bed?” A third nod and Blaine finally pulled away.

“You aren’t going to ask about Kurt?” A grimace overtook Wes’s features but he swallowed down his discomfort and shook his head.

“Who you talk to is none of our business. Its none of _my_ business.” He said. “If you enjoy spending time with Hummel then that is your decision and I’m not going to stop you. But I don’t want to know the details afterwards okay?”

“Okay.”

“Then let’s please go to bed.”

* * *

“Do you understand why Wes was angry with you last night?” Trent asked as they sat down at their usual table in the library. There was no homework for them to go through today, as Trent had decided that their usual Saturday morning study date was instead going to be used to help him work out what had happened the night before.

“I got in my car angry.” Blaine replied. “And he thought that if I’d had an accident that it would be his fault. I get that bit at least, David chewed me out when we got back up to the dorm. He was angry at me for making Wes worry so much.”

“We were _all_ worried D.” Trent replied softly; no malice behind his words. “Wes told me that you were furious with him when you left, and that he’d made a big mistake by saying something really painful to you.”

“He called me stupid.” Blaine replied in a whisper. “He’s never done that before.”

“I want you to understand right now that I have spoken to him at length about this.” Trent said, reaching out to take one of the younger boy’s hands. “I can promise you that Wes didn’t mean it. That none of us think that way about you, and none of us ever _will_. We all have lapses in judgement, and Wes had a _huge_ one last night when he used that word. Please tell me that you understand this.”

“But it was true, what he said.” Blaine whispered. “You can’t all be here when I do something stupid. I can’t rely on you picking me up and piecing me back together all the time.”

“Blaine, the only stupid thing, anyone did last night, was letting you drive in the state that you were in. You were angry, and upset, and if I know you at all, I know that you probably had a flashback at some point between leaving the dorm room and getting in your car. You cannot be blamed for your brain doing that to you, and I promise you that apart from having a lapse in judgement and getting behind the wheel, you did nothing wrong last night.”

“Why wasn’t Wes angry at me for what I said to him? I threatened him with the _ring_ Trent. I threatened to fight him.”

“Again, you were angry and probably feeling suffocated with how much we’ve been hovering over you this past week. We all care about you D, and sometimes we’re going to get a little overprotective of you. But again, that is something for _us_ to work out, not _you_. You tried to tell the guys on Tuesday night at the gym and we didn’t listen to you as well as we should have.”

“I don’t want you guys to back off.” Blaine replied, tears threatening to fill his eyes. “I just needed to breathe for a minute. And, I know that what Kurt said to me was wrong, and you guys spent all of last weekend helping me through it, but I still like spending time with him Trent. He laughs at my jokes, even though they’re the lamest out of all of you guys. We talk about vogue and his friends, and he took me to that football game to see his step-brother play, even though he doesn’t like football.”

“I know you guys have things in common.” Trent said kindly, trying to swallow down his own distaste for the situation. “And I agree that we could all have handled what went on with Kurt a little better.” (Like not letting you anywhere near him in the first place.) He thought bitterly. “So, we’ll back off for now and not get in your way if you want to start hanging out with him again. But I want you to promise me that if he ever makes you feel like you are less than perfect, that you are deserving of less than his full attention; you cut ties with him. I don’t want to see you hurt again, none of us do. I will promise you in return, that we will still be here for you no matter what happens.”

“I just felt so confused last night. I hate it. I hate that I can never tell whether you are mad at me, or making a joke. I hate feeling like I’m not in control, and last night I wasn’t just _not_ in control, I had no fucking clue what was even happening. I thought Wes was going to be so mad at me, and I didn’t want to go back up our room, but he found me anyway and he _was_ mad, but he was mad at something completely different that what he _should_ have been mad at. I’ve promised him that I won’t sleep in the commons any more, or that I won’t drive when angry, but he wouldn’t let me apologise for anything I said to him, and I’m so fucking confused.”

“I know.” Trent said softly, squeezing the younger boy’s hand as he watched Blaine tear up in front of him. “I know that you had no idea what you were coming back to, and I know that it was the last thing you expected. But after what Wes told me, you had _nothing_ to be sorry for. You only got mad when he got mad, and believe me D, you had every _right_ to get mad for what he said to you.”

“I had him against the bathroom door.” Blaine whispered, glancing around to ensure that the librarian wasn’t anywhere near them. “I had him up against the bathroom door with my arm on his throat, and for a split second I _liked_ it. I felt powerful. That is what fucking _terrifies_ me. That I had him dead to rights and he didn’t even try to fight back. I could have snapped him like a twig and he never even _tried_.” There was a lot to unpack in that confession but Trent had a feeling that Blaine’s account of what had happened was much different to Wes’s. One thing he _did_ know, was that he had to talk Blaine down from whatever this was _soon_ , or they could end up with a whole other host of problems on their hands.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t have hurt him.” He said confidently. “You might have, for a slight second, liked it, because to you it must have felt like you were taking back some of the control that you had lost. Was this before or after he called you stupid?”

“After, but it’s no excuse. Is…” The younger boy trailed off and the tears started. “Is there something wrong with me?” Trent could have joined in, having a good cry at that question because Blaine looked so lost; and so, so _small_. He breathed out heavily and pulled the pair of them up and into the stacks; away from the prying eyes of Ms. Prince; folding Blaine into his arms, as soon as they were out of sight.

“There is _nothing_ wrong with you D.” He whispered; his chest heavy. “You have gone through something traumatic, something which would have _destroyed_ any other person. Yes, we’ve been here for you, but it’s _you_ who has gotten himself here today. It is _you_ who is still fighting the aftereffects of what happened. Your brain is going to do weird things to you sometimes, but that is _not_ your fault, and it is _nothing_ any of us are, or _should_ be worrying about. You say you could have snapped him like a twig, but you _didn’t_ , because you are a kind, loving person who I know would never purposefully hurt someone.” He rubbed the younger boy’s back; feeling a stab in his chest every time his hand brushed over another raised scar, and he knew that he needed to get them _both_ out soon if he wanted to avoid having to deal with the old bat that was in charge of the library.

“I’m so tired.” Blaine admitted, almost inaudibly. “I just want it to stop.”

“I know D.” Trent whispered. “I know, and you have been so very strong. We’re so proud of you.”

“I just want to be normal.” Trent pulled back at that to make eye contact with the younger boy, his chest clenching at each new admittance from him.

“We’ve been over this.” He said soberly. “Normal is overrated, and even though you might miss social cues, or fail to get our jokes sometimes, you can see, hear and _do_ things that none of us can. Your talent in music is beyond enviable, and the work that you’ve been turning into Knowles is beyond what is normal for someone of your year group. You are talented, and smart, and one of the bravest and kindest people I have ever met. It is an honour to be your friend Blaine. Normal or not.”

“If I’m so smart then why am I still receiving catch-up packages when the rest of my year group doesn’t need them? Why am I resitting a year when I should be looking forward to being a senior next year? Why do I feel _stupid_ all the fucking time? I get into class and half the time I can’t remember if the material being covered has been in my catch-up sessions or not and then I get worried that I’m starting to forget things more and more. It keeps happening and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“ _Nothing_ is wrong with you D.” Trent replied sternly. Making a mental note to have a sit-down discussion with the rest of the guys about Blaine’s grades. He couldn’t keep them a secret for much longer if this was the consequence. “The stuff we’ve been covering in here _is_ different to the stuff you’ll be covering in class. We’re using these sessions as practise sessions is all, like arranging one song in order to understand another. We couldn’t be giving you the same stuff as they are in class because it would be giving you an unfair advantage. Your grades are more than fine, you’re keeping a four-point five GPA, and I can promise you that stupid people don’t do that. All we’re doing is creating a stash of knowledge in your head that you can use in class.”

“Oh.” Trent blew out a breath of relief at that, more for the epic lie he’d managed to pull off that anything else. But Blaine looked happier now, and he knew that at least some of what he said had made it through.

Thad’s words were going to haunt them all before long.

This _was_ going to be a fucking train wreck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I couldn't have Wes and Blaine stay mad at each other for too long...


	10. White Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is already in the works so I am pleased to say that you should get another one tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy!

Wes sighed as he turned back over in his bed so that he was facing Blaine’s. All in all, the evening had not been a _complete_ disaster. The younger boy had arrived back at their room in Dalton; happy and somewhat relaxed, which is all any of them could hope for these days. He’d been fully prepared to go another round with Kurt, but he’d been promised that Kurt had been a ‘ _sweetheart all night_ ’. He couldn’t help but think back to the outcome of Trent’s intervention, and frustration ached in his chest at just how far backwards Blaine had slipped.

Flashback

‘He asked if there was something wrong with him Wes.’ The frustration and anger and pain were right there on Trent’s face as he paced the empty dorm. ‘What the hell was I supposed to do with that? What the hell _can_ you do with that? He is terrified and I don’t know what I’m doing.’ Wes stood up to stop the other boy’s pacing and it took less than a second for Trent to make eye contact with him. He was so used to asking for it from Blaine, or fighting the younger boy for it that he had started to forget that not everyone around him had trouble connecting.

‘You need to admit when you are way in over your head Trent.’ He said firmly. ‘It is something we _all_ need to start thinking about. What else can we do for him if he continues to slip? We have exams in a matter of weeks, none of us are sleeping well, _all_ of us are worried about him. Maybe it’s time we got someone else involved. Someone who could actually _help_.’

‘Who?’

‘My dad.’ Wes replied with a shrug. ‘It’s his duty as headmaster to look after the students here, and although he can’t force Devon’s parents to put him into the counselling he needs, there must be something he can do to help us. He has contacts, people in therapy who would be happy to do him favours. We have looked after Devon for almost two years now, and I can honestly say that I’ve never seen him backslide so fast in such a short space of time.’

‘ _Are_ we in over our heads?’ Trent asked quietly, his voice small and his shoulders hunching in on themselves.

‘What do _you_ think Trent? You have just admitted that you don’t know what you’re doing, and putting him in with someone from my dad will do him less harm than you will if you end up saying the wrong thing. It’s scary, it’s hard and it has always been our last option, but now I think we need to look at it as a lifeline. We are going to need a discussion about Dev’s grades, about him skipping forwards into his senior year, and college applications can be fucking terrifying when you _do_ have a clue, never mind applying for early admittance whilst suffering through one of the toughest things anyone could face. He is going to need _help_. Help that we can’t give if we aren’t here.’

End Flashback

He turned over again; onto his back this time, to stare at the ceiling. Blaine’s breaths were steady and consistent in the bed next to him. He was _safe_. Wes was not ashamed to admit that Friday night pushed his nerves to their limit. He had been scared to death by the idea that he could have caused untold damage to the younger boy, and he was still angry at himself for what he’d said and done.

When he’d caught Blaine, creeping around their common room, positively shaking with nerves of his own; he’d wanted to do nothing but wrap him up in the quilt he’d found and hug him until both of their pain had gone away. They had thought that they were doing a good thing, but in truth, all they’d done was hide him away from the world; damaging his chances of making friends with his own years, and having a fair crack at a _normal_ life. There was that word again.

Normal.

_Nothing_ was normal when it came to Blaine Devon Anderson. It wasn’t _normal_ to have had your head beaten in, almost to the point of death, and have been able to remaster the piano in less than a month after leaving the hospital. It wasn’t _normal_ to have come out of a five-month coma, being unable to do the most basic of tasks for yourself, and yet still retaining the ability to pitch match and note spot. It wasn’t _normal_ to have gone through something so horrific, and still be selfless to the point of self-destruction.

He wished he’d known him before the attack. If Blaine maintained the opinion that he was _different_ or _stupider_ after what he’d gone through, then what must he have been like before his life had become a dumpster fire? Had he liked sports? Had he ever boxed before then? Was he bright, was he outgoing? Had he had a sense of humour? The enigma that was his roommate’s previous life was something they’d never experience for themselves. Instead, what they had been given, was the gift of a brilliant, brave, selfless boy, who it had been their ultimate privilege to get to know.

He sighed again and sat up in bed, giving up his attempt to silence his head. There was a shifting in the bed opposite him, and he prayed to whichever god was listening, that it _wasn’t_ a nightmare. He breathed a sigh of relief when the smaller boy settled back down; one of his legs dangling out of the covers and a pillow over his head. Wes smiled softly at the sight; getting up to carefully push Blaine’s leg, back under the quilt. He paused when his eyes caught sight of a long scar on his calf, but waved the feeling off to ensure that his roommate wouldn’t catch a cold.

His mind flickered back to the first time he’d ever seen the extent of the younger boy’s injuries; scars criss-crossing over his body like some sort of macabre painting. The only two limbs which had gone unharmed were his left arm (apart from the fingers) and right leg. Blaine had opened up slowly about the attack; usually after his nightmares when he was vulnerable and from what Wes had pieced together, there had been five (or maybe six) guys against Blaine and his date. Two of them had carried baseball bats, whilst the rest had been tooled with sharps, and even though Blaine had come out worse, neither of the two boys had been conscious when the ambulance had turned up.

Flashback

Wes continued to scan the textbook as he approached his dorm, taking his key and absentmindedly entering the space without even thinking to knock. A terrified gasp ripped his attention from his book and he vaguely heard the door close behind him. In front of him, frozen and wide eyed was his new roommate. Well technically Blaine had been his roommate for over two months now, but despite him promising to take him under his wing, he hardly ever saw the boy.

‘Shit…’ He breathed, taking in the scene in front of him. It was the very first thing that had come to mind at seeing Blaine in nothing but a pair of boxers, trembling violently. He threw down his book onto his bed and took up the younger boy’s quilt; wrapping it around him against the frigid temperatures in their room and sitting them both down on his bed. ‘Hey, its okay.’ He said softly, when Blaine began to fight against him, and he removed his hands from his shoulders; holding them up in a sign of peace. ‘You’re okay now.’

He couldn’t get the image out of his head. It looked as though Edward Scissor Hands had gone to town on his roommate’s body. Thin lines covered his chest and stomach, a large, violent looking scar mapping over his right shoulder, and another vertical, down his sternum except, that one looked more surgical than anything else. He had no doubts that the younger boy’s back was more of the same, and he realised that his casts had been hiding more scars, instead of breaks.

Blaine’s hair had grown back in, from when they’d first met, but he already knew about the huge scars that also covered the young boy’s skull, and adding them to the already horrifying image he’d just witnessed well… was there any wonder why the boy couldn’t stand being physically close to any of them?

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispered, when his roommate had calmed slightly. ‘I should have knocked before coming in.’

‘Its okay.’ Blaine replied, falling over the words slightly with the stutter that still hadn’t totally disappeared.

‘No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t have come in without announcing myself, that was something we learnt together on week one. I’m _so_ sorry Blaine.’ He caught Blaine’s wince at the use of his first name, and cursed again at his own obtuseness. ‘You don’t like being called that do you?’

‘M…My dad calls m…me it, when I’m in t…trouble.’ Wes winced, both at the admission and at the sound of Blaine stumbling over his words. It was an after effect of his surgery, but he’d started to get worse when he was under stress, or was nervous.

‘I’m sorry.’ He replied honestly, and as gently as he could. ‘Perhaps you would like to pick something else for me to call you by. Do you have a middle name?’

‘Devon.’ The younger boy forced out, barely tripping this time.

‘So, could I call you that instead?’ Wes asked, relief flooding him when he was awarded with a nod. ‘Do you mind me shortening it sometimes? Like to Dev?’ The newly baptised ‘Devon’ shook his head and Wes offered him a tentative grin, beyond pleased, when it was returned.

End Flashback

It had been in the first few weeks, following that incident that they had formed a bond. A bond which was now in danger of being severely tested by the coming weeks. To the rest of the guys; Blaine had remained just that; but to Trent and he, he had become _Devon_ Anderson instead. They only ever used his first name if they needed to break him out of flashbacks or nightmares, and even then, they had much preferred to stick with Dev or D if they could.

Blaine was the brave, outside face the younger boy showed the world. It was the face he had worn to every interaction with Kurt, it was the face he wore for classes and it was the face that people fell in love with. But underneath that face, Devon was a terrified young boy, who was still trying to find his place in the world. The Warbler’s sometimes were given glimpses of Devon, like on the bus to and from Regionals, that Monday, and…

“Are you okay?” Shit, and now he’d woken him up.

“Yeah I’m fine.” He lied, with a smile, their room illuminated by the bathroom light.

“And you call _me_ the liar.” Blaine replied, wrapping his duvet around himself and sitting next to Wes on the edge of the older boy’s bed; leaning into his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really.” Wes replied with a sigh. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

“I woke you up in the middle of the night, screaming. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep but unpacking had tired me out. You’d thrown a blanket over me and I got trapped in it trying to escape the dorm.”

“No, not that.” Wes whispered, shaking his head, and pushing the first images he’s ever gained of the younger boy form his mind. “When I walked in on you and you were in the middle of getting changed. I’d forgotten to knock.”

“That was the day you called me Devon.” The younger boy replied with a grin. “We sat in almost this exact same spot, me bundled up in my duvet and you trying not to freak out.”

“I just didn’t want to freak _you_ out.” Wes admitted. “I was so scared that I would do or say something wrong, and that you would end up hurting yourself trying to get away from me.”

“My stiches were out by that point.” Blaine replied with a frown.

“Yes, but I didn’t _know_ that at the time.”

“Look how far we’ve come.”

“Yeah.” Wes snorted. “You grew a huge streak of insolence and my life has been a wild ride ever since.” The pair of them laughed softly at that and were soon back to sharing a comfortable silence; Blaine’s eyes drooping as he stifled his yawns.

“Am I staying with you tonight?” He asked quietly, and Wes eyed him up for a minute, surprised at his perception.

“Would that be okay?”

“Of course, it would. It’s not like we haven’t before.”

“No funny business then.” Wes responded with a grin; ushering the now laughing boy up, so that they could both slip under the sheets; Blaine’s duvet getting abandoned on his own bed. As soon as he felt the familiar weight of the younger boy’s head on his shoulder, he closed his eyes and realised that this is what he’d needed to shut his brain up.


	11. Cars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a little late today, but this chapter seemed to fight me with each and every word. I don't have a word of the follow up written but I hope to be back with regular posting over the next day or so. This fic is turning into something more than I intended, and I have no idea how many chapters we will end up with. Let's just say that I have certain events planned in and no idea how to get there lol.  
> As always, thanks to those who have taken the time to review and leave Kudos. You guys make it worth it.

“They’re so cute.” Trent whispered, nudging David as they gazed down at the two boys sharing Wes’s bed. “Look they’re snuggling!”

“Quit it out Nixon.” David replied, his words lacking any real bite to them. “Let’s just drop the coffee and leave.”

“Did someone say coffee?” Came the slurred reply from the bed, and Blaine shifted slightly, his eyes peeking out from where he’d buried his head in his roommate’s collarbone.

“They sure did.” Trent said happily, bouncing over and dropping down onto the edge of the bed, waking Wes up in the process. “We brought coffee and cronuts for breakfast.” The older of the two boys groaned into his pillow before turning to scowl at their two intruders.

“You have some explaining to do Thompson.” Wes muttered angrily, sitting up and accepting a cup from Trent. “Nixon in a morning I can handle, but what the fuck are you doing here at this ungodly hour?”

“We were watching the pair of you get all snuggly.” Trent replied with a laugh, passing the other, larger cup to Blaine, who still looked half asleep as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “You were cuddling.” The two boys blushed and Blaine shot a look at Wes before deciding to take the wrap for them both.

“I had a nightmare.” He lied easily. “I didn’t want to sleep alone.”

“No need to explain.” David said, holding a hand up and sitting on the bottom of the bed. “We get it Blaine. It’s okay. I’m only here because Trent dragged me out of bed.” Trent nodded with a grin, before lifting a paper bag from the floor and shoving it into Blaine’s chest.

“You both need to eat, and then, in true Sunday style, we’re going out for the day. David and I are in charge, and Niff and Thad are meeting us by the cars in half an hour, so get up, get dressed and let’s hit the road.”

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes and leaning his head against Wes’s shoulder.

“Columbus.” David replied with a smirk, refusing to give any more information than that. “Dress comfortable, but bring something fancy along to change into later.” With that rather cryptic parting comment; the other two boys left, presumably to wake up the others.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked quietly, not even bothering to lift his head from his roommate’s shoulder.

“I could have done with an extra hour’s sleep. But, yeah. I’m okay Dev.”

“I think I should talk to your dad.” Wes lifted his shoulder to get the younger boy to sit up and he fought to make eye contact with him before he deigned that with a response.

“Tell me what you need Devon.” He said softly.

“I think I need help, for next year.” Blaine whispered. “And, you guys have exams coming up, you can’t be worrying about me at the same time.”

“Your parents…”

“Don’t want me in therapy unless they’re planning to medicate the shit out of me, or convert me to being straight.” There was bitterness in his words, but he didn’t look worried or scared. Wes was realising that this was probably the most honest conversation they’d had in weeks.

“You don’t need to be on pills Dev.” He whispered softly. “You just need someone to talk to.”

“Yeah well, we’ve spoken about it. If they’re putting me in therapy then they’re going to expect me to go on the pills. Apparently, I’m much easier to deal with when medicated.”

“We’ll work this out.” Wes whispered, wrapping his arm around the younger boy and pulling him into his side. “I promise you that we’ll work it out.” Blaine nodded but chose to keep silent on the matter. It didn’t matter what Wes promised, he was still a minor, and no one would be able to stop his parents if they wanted to fill him with a cocktail of drugs.

They had threatened it the previous summer, when he had met the six seniors for a day out at six flags, and they had decided to spontaneously stop for a movie before they all went home. Wes had dropped him off at a little after half nine, and he’d walked into the house, straight into an ‘ _intervention_ ’. They had decided that due to his genuine giddiness after the day’s outing, and the fact that he’d blatantly disrespected them by staying out so late, that he needed something to ‘ _calm him down’_ and to ‘ _handle these kinds of outbursts’_. He’d spent the rest of the summer in his bedroom, working on songs and trying to stay out of their way, only for them to turn around during the last week and told him that he was too ‘ _depressed_ ’, and that they ought to start thinking about getting him something to pick him back up.

He’d escaped the house without a doctor’s appointment, and had been avoiding his parents for the most of the school year. The problem was, that the tics he’d developed after the surgery; the hair pulling, the nervous tapping, wiggling his toes or fingers, pretending to play scales to calm himself down… well, there was a whole _list_ of them. And, they were tics he couldn’t always help. Which meant, that the little time he _had_ spent with his parents had been full of derogatory comments about ‘ _controlling himself_ ’.

“We should get up.” He said after a minute or two of silence. “Or Trent will more than likely drag us out of bed.”

“I feel sorry for Beat, having to room with him.” Wes replied with a snort.

“Well its better than being with ‘ _Niff_ ’ next door.”

“You caught that too, did you?”

“Hard to miss it really. It’s creative, I’ll give Trent that.” Blaine downed half his cup of coffee, wincing at it burning down the back of his throat before kicking off the covers and climbing over his roommate to grab a fresh towel from his drawers. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then the bathroom is all yours.” Wes watched him disappear into their bathroom and took another sip of his latte. He had no idea what time he’d actually managed to get to sleep, but he _did_ know that it was too late. He felt like crap if he was honest, and he hoped that whatever the other two boys had planned was not going to be anything too strenuous.

* * *

“If you don’t tell me where the fuck we’re going, I swear I will end you Nixon.” That growled from the back seat of Trent’s car. David was ferrying Nick and Jeff into town, leaving Trent to deal with Wes, Blaine and a _very_ sleepy and irate Thad. “I can’t believe you dragged me out of bed at eight o’clock on a fucking _Sunday_.”

“Oh, hush you.” Trent replied. “Stop being so dramatic. We’re going into Columbus for a day out. That is all you need to know.”

“Then please explain to me why I needed a suit bag?”

“Because, as much as I am enjoying the view of your rear end in that denim, I’m not sure that the theatre will agree this evening.” Trent quipped with a cheeky smile. The boys were dressed mainly in jeans and hoodies but there were seven suit bags split between the two cars in their party. When you told a Dalton boy to pack fancy, that usually meant formal evening dress. Still, it was a surprise to all of them that Blaine hadn’t attempted to stick a hatbox in the back of the car, and that his hair was mercifully gel-free.

“We’re going to the theatre?” Blaine exclaimed happily, his eyes going huge.

“Yes, and if any of you tell David I told; I swear to all that is holy, I will make your lives a living hell for the rest of the year.”

“You mean more than you already do?” Wes snorted, relaxing slightly as relief overtook him. He was still tired, despite the second coffee Trent had brought him and he was glad to hear that they didn’t have plans to storm six flags today.

“You love me really.” Trent said cheekily, throwing a wink at Blaine who was riding shotgun. The younger boy burst into delighted laughter at that, and as Trent turned on the stereo; blasting Katy Perry into the car, the fatigue lifted off of the shoulders of the two seniors in the back seats. Listening to Blaine belt out California Girls was always guaranteed to put a smile onto _any_ of their faces.

The mood in David’s car couldn’t be more of a polar opposite, as he, Jeff and Nick were in a deep and serious discussion about a certain Dalton junior. Wes had confided in both David and Nick, that Saturday night had gone well between Blaine and Kurt, and now they were left with a decision about the countertenor.

“We _can’t_ just let him in back that after what he did.” Jeff growled at his boyfriend. Nick lifted his shoulder into a shrug and looked at his fellow council member.

“Blaine hasn’t even approached us yet.” He said, studying David, who seemed determined not to weigh in on the matter.

“You have any doubt that he will?” Jeff asked.

“No. But, I agree with what was said on Friday night. He’ll certainly be easier to keep tabs on if we know where he is half of the week. Between them, Wes and Trent have the majority of Blaine’s time tied up with study sessions, the Warblers take another good chunk of his weekday evenings, so in reality we’ll be looking at maybe a night a week where Blaine isn’t being distracted with other stuff. After what happened this week, I doubt he’s going to be back in the gym anytime soon, so he’s going to need a different outlet. I think I can live with him getting coffee with Hummel once a week.”

“And what about you?” Jeff asked David.

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Nick.” David said evenly. “Actually, scratch that, it’s _Trent_ I’m agreeing with. He has his head screwed on straight when it comes to what Blaine needs from us all. We all let our emotions get in the way sometimes, Nixon seems to retain the ability to see a situation for what it is. Besides, what is the old adage? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I have no doubt that Hummel is bad news, and I would be a lot happier if I knew for certain where he was for most of the week.”

The car fell silent after that, the three seniors mulling over their limited options. Although the council was officially made up of Nick, David and Wes; the six senior boys had all gotten close after helping Blaine, and there wasn’t a decision that passed through them, that wasn’t at least okayed by all. So, with the three of them deep in their own individual thoughts, and nothing much else to say on the matter they had lapsed into one of those awkward silences that no one wanted to break.

* * *

“So, what _is_ the plan for today then?” Blaine asked, when they finally pulled down a street in Downtown Columbus. “You have been rather cryptic so far.”

“Well, we thought that we’d stop off at Stantons to pick up some new sheets for Nationals inspiration, then we’re taking our resident bookworm to his favourite shop out in the German Village, we’ll go from there to an early lunch at Tony’s before hitting the park for the afternoon. We have a table booked at The Woodbury for six and we have to be at the theatre for half seven. If there’s anywhere else anyone wants to go then we can come back in town this afternoon.”

“How the hell did you get a table at The Woodbury?” Wes asked in disbelief.

“David may have mentioned who we were.” Trent said with a blush. “Once they realised that they were basically accepting a booking for the sons of lawyers, doctors, and the headmaster of the private school they are all alumni of well… they basically fell over themselves to clear us a table.”

“You are both terrible.” Blaine said with a grin. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“ _I_ didn’t.” Trent replied. “That was all David.”

“And, just who booked the theatre tickets _Nixon_?” Wes asked, an eyebrow quirking in amusement.

“Plausible deniability.” Was the returned quip, and they all fell about in laughter once more, meaning it was a very excitable foursome that met David, Nick and Jeff in the car park of Stantons.

“You’re all in good spirits.” David remarked as they piled out of their respective cars. “Anything you want to share?”

“Nope.” Was Thad’s reply. “Its not our fault that we got the fun car whilst you were stuck with them two.”

“How long did they spend eating each other’s faces?” Blaine asked with huge, innocent eyes.

“Yeah you’re fooling no one with those.” David snorted. “And there was no face eating involved. Instead they argued for over two minutes about who was riding shotgun.” They all laughed as they entered the store, sweeping through it like a tidal wave of energy. They spent half an hour riffling through the shelves before approaching the counter, all seven of them with their arms full of sheets.

“Who’s paying?” Nick asked, leaning against the counter with a grin.

“Well seeing as you’re going to treat your boyfriend in the Book Loft, I think this one’s on me.” Wes said with a grin, pulling out his wallet.

“You just want to get away with not buying lunch.” Blaine said with a snort.

“You wound me Devon.”

“You’re not funny.”

“ _Neither_ of you are funny.” Thad butted in before the two roommates could build up steam. “Now let us _please_ get out of here before Duval here decides we forgot something.” Nick childishly stuck his tongue out at the taller boy and looped an arm around his boyfriend, who had little sympathy for him and therefore had no qualms about poking his side, prompting a squeak from the dark-haired boy. The rest of the group burst out into laughter and they were still chuckling when they reached the cars. “I’m riding with David and Niff.” Thad deadpanned as he leant against David’s chevy.

“Traitor.” The youngest of the boys responded, receiving two fingers for his cheek. “And to think you were starting to grow on me.”

“Screw you Anderson.”

“You _wish_ Harwood.”


	12. Odyssey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I'm really late at posting this, but I've had a pretty manic week so far and not much time to write. I have started Chapter 13 and will try to get it up tomorrow if i can, but for now, please enjoy this one!

Blaine watched with huge eyes and a face-splitting grin as the Columbus Symphony blew all of their expectations out of the water. He had loved all genres of music, even as a kid; but there was nothing quite like watching a fifty-piece orchestra in action. The day had been nothing short of amazing, and they were definitely ending it on a high note with this.

“Look at him.” Wes whispered to Trent, who was as transfixed on the stage as Blaine was. “Look how happy he is right now.” Trent glanced at the youngest member of their group, who had sandwiched himself between Thad and David and positively beamed at the wonder on his face. Between them, they had done well, the baby-faced senior thought, giving himself a mental pat on the back. Blaine looked as though he was in his own little world; completely enraptured with the orchestra and oblivious to everything else around him.

“We did good.” He whispered back to Wes with a smile.

“Yeah, you did.” Was the melancholy reply. Trent reached over and gave Wes’s hand a squeeze in silent support. He knew that the other boy was feeling _inadequate_ as of late, and he knew that it was a situation that it would be up to him to solve. For now, though; they turned their attentions back to the stage and vowed to make the most of the rest of the evening.

Nick had heard the exchange between the two boys, from his seat between Trent and his boyfriend. He reached out to Jeff and grabbed his hand, holding on for dear life as he vowed to do better, to _be_ better. They had all made the promise to each other that they would do whatever it took to keep Blaine happy, and as stress free as possible. They had made the promise that they would ensure his remaining high-school career was filled with laughter, and friends and safety. They had all made the promise out of foolish naivety; failing to understand just what it meant when they all graduated.

“Are you okay?” Jeff whispered to him, keeping his voice low as to not alert any of the others to their conversation. Nick nodded and swallowed down his frustration and self-pity. It would not help any of them if he caved now.

He had to be better.

The last number was by far the most spectacular and had Blaine smiling the widest. A Space Odyssey was one of Wes’s favourite films of all time, and Strauss’s composition was instantly recognisable to the boy who had been forced to watch that movie _far_ too many times in their dorm. He glanced over to his roommate who was also sporting a wide smile as he watched the stage and counted the day as a success in his own mind.

They had skipped the park, and instead had spent the afternoon wandering around the city, with little to no idea what they were doing, and just generally having a good time of it. They had been forced to drag Jeff away from the German Village, after the blonde had insisted on going back to the Book Loft, and _he’d_ been forced out of Music Haus after he’d fallen a little _too_ into a conversation about building his own electric guitar.

All in all; the weekend had been a huge spirit lifter, and he felt ready to launch himself back into his lessons, and The Warblers first thing in the morning. He planned on taking a trip to Wes’s dad over lunch, and he was fully prepared to begin cramming for the end of year exams.

The concert came to a close, and he almost didn’t want to move from his seat. He felt Thad’s hand on his wrist and he gave the older boy a nod to let him know that he was okay. He just felt overwhelmed by the day’s events, and as wonderful as it had been, he was ready to admit to himself that he was in need of his bed.

* * *

The boys had split themselves between two cars again, although this time, Wes was riding shotgun with Trent and throwing worried glances at the back seat; where Blaine was sprawled out on his back, arms akimbo and his mouth slightly open as he breathed softly. They had been worried that the day was going to be too much for the younger boy, but he’d held up spectacularly, being dragged along with the wave of positive energy the other boys had exuded. He’d started to flag around dinner time, but as soon as they’d stepped foot into the theatre, his eyes had been wide open in an innocent wonder that had all of the boys shooting him fond smiles.

Blaine was strong. Stronger than they often gave him credit for. And his confidence (with the exception of the last couple of weeks); had soared through the roof of Dalton Academy. It had been that no so quiet confidence that had drawn in the sharks, and they had all taken their eye off the ball when Hummel had come along, captivated by those huge brown eyes and Blaine’s easy smile. Wes was still kicking himself for not staying for that first coffee meet between Blaine and Kurt. He’d known exactly what his roommate would do when confronted by a bleeding heart, and still, he’d let that happen.

“You’re thinking too much.” Trent whispered, taking care not to disturb their oh so precious cargo. “I don’t like it.”

“I feel like I’ve let him down.” Wes replied. “You and David have taken a day to do what I’ve been trying to for weeks. We all saw what he was like tonight. He was the same boy we had before this mess with the gelfling. He was the same boy I last saw, running down a corridor, dragging that asshole along like he was the most brilliant thing in the world and all it took was a day out.”

“It’s taken a lot more than that, and you know it.” Trent rebuked softly. “Tonight was merely a distraction. That’s all David and I have done Wes, distracted him. You have been there for him from the very start. He is what he is because of _you_. You have not failed him in any conceivable way I can think of. Hell, Wes you’re his _hero_.”

“But that’s just the point. He’s put me on a pedestal that I can’t live up to. I hurt him so bad this week. I crashed and burned spectacularly, and even though all the signs were pointing to him going full-scale meltdown; he has not had a smile off of his face all day. _You’ve_ done this Trent. You’ve given him back something tonight that I never thought possible.”

“You need to shut up.” Blaine mumbled from the back seat, clearly not as asleep as they’d thought. “I made it pretty clear to you earlier this week that you are the reason I’m still alive.” He sat up and buckled himself in behind Trent, just so that he was in the perfect position to give Wes the stink eye. “You understand what that means right?” He asked, quirking his eyebrow before failing to stifle a huge yawn that totally spoilt the image.

“You should try and sleep more.” Wes said softly, choosing to ignore the question and instead focus on the fact that the younger boy looked done in. “You are exhausted.”

“I’m fine.” Was the mumbled reply as Blaine rubbed his eyes; sleepily. “I need you to hear this, in front of a witness, so that you can finally try and get it through that hard head of yours.”

“We don’t have to do this now though Devon.” Wes argued back.

“Yes, we do. Now is as good a time as any, and quite frankly, I’m getting tired of your self-deprecation. I know that is totally hypocritical of me, but in your case, you really have nothing to beat yourself up over.” He made eye contact with the older boy and took a deep breath to steady himself for what came next. “You saved my life Wes.” He said softly. “I told you this the other morning at breakfast, and you didn’t believe me. Well its true. You saved my life in every way possible. Without you, without _any_ of you, I would have been dead within four months. I was a mess, I couldn’t sleep, I was barely eating, I was terrified of everyone and everything, and I would have gone back home to a hostile environment, only to be sent to a clinic for conversion therapy. You gave me the confidence to stand up for myself, you helped me not be afraid anymore. You have taught me more about being a man than anyone else has. You took me in, when you had no reason to. You are the reason I’m still alive.” All three boys were tearing up at this point, and Wes shot an apologetic look at Trent as he unclipped his seat belt and climbed over the centre console into the back.

“I am so proud of you.” He whispered as he wrapped Blaine into a tight hug. “I know that I’m not perfect, and it will be a while before I forgive myself for what I said Friday night. But I’m so proud that you have come so far as to have avoided what we all thought was going to be inevitable. I crossed the line, way into what was considered acceptable; and I’m so sorry for calling you that. You are a lot of things Devon, but stupid has never been one of them. I’m so sorry.” The two boys clung to each other on the back seat for the rest of the drive back to Dalton, and once they had pulled into the car park, Trent’s situation became clear to him immediately.

He didn’t want to wake either of his friends, but he didn’t think he would be able to pick Wes up, never mind carry him up three flights of stairs. Blaine was pocket-sized _and_ underweight so was an easy solution, the other boy however, presented him with quite the dilemma. In the end he made the decision and gently shook Wes’s shoulder; waking him in the gentlest of ways possible.

“Hey Wes.” He said with a smile when the other boy woke. “I need you to let go of him so I can get him up the stairs. Everything is quiet in the school so I was going to carry him up this time.” Wes nodded and untangled himself from his roommate.

“Thank you for today Trent.” He said seriously. “I mean that.”

“I know you do, and you are welcome. Let’s just make sure it ends okay, and get both of you inside quickly and safely. You’ll both be much more comfortable in a bed than on the back seat of my car.”

* * *

Trent closed the door softly behind him, wincing as the click of the lock echoed down the corridor. The school was in darkness. It was usual for Sundays to be quiet and after eight in the evening it was all about deserted, as most boys made the decision to have an early night before Monday’s lessons but, it was now nearing ten, and the lights were off, and the only sounds to be heard were the ones of muffled snores coming from behind the dorm’s doors.

He tiptoed down the corridor; back to his own room, slipping in and closing the door as to not wake his sophomore roommate. Beat was one of the candidates he would choose to pass on Blaine’s case to for the next year. The boy was gentle, soft spoken and flew under the radar whilst still maintaining a perfect grade. He was very much what Tent had seen himself as two years ago, and he knew that he could trust Beat to be discreet about Blaine’s situation.

He looked over to see his roommate starfished on his bed; arms and legs at all angles and with the covers wrapped around his body. His strawberry blonde curls ( _not_ ginger thank you very much) were messy and half mushed into his pillow as the younger boy snoozed, oblivious to his senior roommate’s entrance. Trent smiled fondly and dug his nightwear out, padding into the bathroom to get changed.

He thought about the two boys he’d left; both now dead to the world and snuggled together in Wes’s bed. He’d not been able to help himself after helping Wes get a completely exhausted Blaine into some comfortable clothes. The younger boy had practically collapsed into his arms once he’d got a t-shirt over his head and he had thrown a huge, cheeky smirk at the other senior before depositing Blaine into his bed. Wes had simply rolled his eyes, gotten changed and climbed under the covers at the side of him, wrapping him in his arms as if scared he’d fall apart if he let go. Trent figured that it was one of the only ways Wes knew how to prevent nightmares and had simply left them to it, departing with the promise of coffee the next morning.

His thoughts turned to everything that had so far happened that year, from Blaine returning in the summer, subdued and with bruises, but _alive_ and ready for the school year, to their two ties both at Sectionals _and_ Regionals. He thought over the Kurt situation, and wondered how much further he could push Blaine academically, before the end of the year. He thought over it all before he finally went to bed an hour later, hoping beyond hope that he’d done enough.

* * *

Wes woke at the soft sound of a sob next to him, and his eyes shot open and his brain flooded his body with adrenaline. He scrambled up into a sitting position and rolled Blaine onto his back so as to be able to get a read on the situation. The younger boy’s eyes were still closed, but his eyebrows were bunched together and his jaw was clenched, along with his hands.

A headache.

And a bad one if Wes wasn’t mistaken. He carefully climbed over his roommate and slipped into the bathroom; filling a glass with water and taking out two Tylenol _and_ two Advil. He also ran a soft cloth under the cold tap and dug out a bottle of lavender oil from his emergency pack.

“Take these for me and drink the water and then I’ll give you a massage to try and help relieve some of the pain.” He whispered as quietly as he could. “Do you feel sick?” He caught an almost imperceptible shake of the head and blew out a sigh of relief. “Good. Take these for me Dev and then I can try and help.” Blaine let out a groan of pain as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and he accepted the four pills from his roommate.

“This is starting to get old real fast.” He groaned as he rested his back and head against the wall. “I’m so tired.”

“I know you are Dev. Just try and drink the rest of the water for me though.” Wes poured a few drops of the Lavender oil onto the damp cloth and pressed it against Blaine’s head, hoping that the coolness would relieve some of the pain whilst the Lavender helped with the tension. The younger boy blew out steady breaths as they both sat there in the darkness, Wes turning the cloth over every so often and coaxing him to drink.

The painkillers finally kicked in after a while and he folded his body into Wes’s waiting arms, and they were both soon back sleeping more-or-less soundly.


	13. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've let this fic slide slightly this week, and I apologise to all of those who have been following it. Thank you for all of your comments and Kudos, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Monday morning started out just like so many mornings had as of late; with Trent bouncing into their dorm with a huge grin, a brown paper bag and a trio of coffee cups. There was no lie-in for either of them though, as there was a lot to get through. The Warblers would start Nationals prep that afternoon, Trent and Blaine would have another study session, and the younger boy _still_ had plans to talk to Headmaster Montgomery before the day was out. All in all, they had a pretty hectic and filled schedule ahead of them.

“Hey D?” Trent called as Blaine was trying to get his curls to behave in the bathroom mirror.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something personal?” The younger boy’s head popped out of the bathroom, a confused frown tugging at his eyebrows.

“You literally carried me to bed last night.” He replied. “Just come out and ask Trent. If you overstep, I’ll let you know.” Wes felt as confused as Blaine, wondering where the hell Nixon was taking this conversation. The Sophomore was constantly complaining about Trent’s early morning energy, but even Wes could see that this was too heavy for seven-thirty in the morning.

“Have you ever talked to Beat?”

“Your roomie?” Blaine asked, giving up on his curls and stepping out of the bathroom; throwing his towel into his laundry hamper. “Of course, I have. He’s a brother.”

“I mean _outside_ of Warbler practice.” Trent replied; rolling his eyes. “It’s just, I get the feeling that he’s worried about coming back next year to a new roommate and half of us Warblers gone. I have no doubt that they’ll be in good hands when Wes hands you the gavel, but I worry about him. He’s a bit like I was when we first met, and you have helped me so much over the last couple of years. I would never have had the courage to even audition, if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I was shitting myself and dragged you along to the audition that this narcissist insisted I take.” Blaine replied with a frown, gesturing to Wes who stuck his tongue out. “And if we’re talking about how much we’ve helped each other, then the pair of you have got me beat in that department.”

“Just, why not have a chat with him?” Trent asked softly; steering the conversation back to the original topic. “I think the pair of you could be good for each other, and you have been saying that you want to step out of your comfort zone and make a few new friends.”

“I share my chem class with him right before lunch.” Blaine replied with a shrug. “I suppose I could have a chat.” Trent positively beamed at him and shot a wink at Wes when Blaine turned away from them both to slip his blazer on. “Right now though; I think I need another coffee before I have to deal with two hours of Harvey.” Both Trent and Wes winced at that. The old history teacher had discovered the art of making some of the most interesting periods of their history sound like the most boring things that had ever happened. A Harry Potter obsessed Blaine had likened him once to Binns; Hogwarts’ ghostly history teacher and no one had disagreed with that assessment.

“Coffee it is then.” Wes said with a decisive nod, and the three of them grabbed their bags and headed out for what promised to be a busy day for all of them.

* * *

“Mind if I join you?” Beat looked up from his essay to find a curly haired Blaine Anderson, stood by his desk, fidgeting slightly. He nodded and quickly cleared the seat next to him of his things, making space for the older boy. Trent had spoken to him that morning, before he’d headed out of the dorm, warning him of a possible approach from the lead singer, and to just be himself around the boy who had become a mystery to a good portion of the school. He knew that Trent was going to try and find him a new roommate, but when he’d mentioned Blaine that morning, Beat couldn’t help but feel a little star-struck. The Sophomore was a proverbial _rock-star_ and the pride of The Warblers. “Thanks.” He said with a smile; dumping his bag and pulling out his textbooks. “I don’t think I can deal with being right under Knowles’s nose today.”

“It’s fine. You can sit here.” Beat replied, cursing himself for his lack of conviction, and the crude way in which his nerves twisted his words. He cleared his throat nervously before shooting a look over at Blaine, who seemed to already be engrossed in the last portion of his own essay. Clearly the two of them had the same idea, and were doing last minute checks on their homework before the class officially started. “Do you have any idea what you’re singing for Nationals?” He mentally kicked himself as a frown crossed the older boy’s face.

“I’m not sure yet.” Blaine replied. “I’m not even sure if I’m going to be leading.”

“But you have to!” Beat burst out, surprising the pair of them. “We’ll have _no_ chance if you step down from the front. Trent’s got a great voice, and Nick can keep up, but you’re on a whole other level. You just _have_ to lead Blaine.” The other boy looked amused for a minute, warmth in his eyes and a smile tugging his lips.

“You can over-inflate someone’s ego you know.” He eventually said with an outright grin. “But I’m flattered you have faith in me, all the same. I just meant, we have so many good voices we could showcase, I was thinking of appealing the council for more medleys so that everyone gets a shot. Singing lead is great and all, and I agree that Trent can belt out a ballad against the best of them, but we work at our best when we work together, and it’s time for some of the other guys to step up.”

“I sometimes wish I had what you guys have.”

“Are you kidding me?” Blaine asked, his eyebrows rising. “You’re our most vital voice! Without you our performances would be all over the place. You’re our conductor _and_ our drum set. You’re the cornerstone to what we do.” Beat blushed at that; unaccustomed to the praise.

“Thanks.” He said shyly, ducking his head. “That means a lot from you.” Blaine blinked at that and tilted his head to one side, as if trying to work something out. He’d heard some of the seniors compare the dark-haired boy to a puppy, and Beat could see where they were coming from, the head tilt _was_ reminiscent to an over-sized Labrador. He was saved from any more of Blaine’s unusual mannerisms as Mr. Knowles entered the classroom, calling them to the front to hand in their essays before starting to outline the lesson for the day.

The mystery that was Blaine Anderson was destined to remain just that for a little longer.

* * *

“I’ll see you at practise later.” Blaine said as he scooped up his books and folded them away into his bag, giving him a wave as they parted for their lunch break. The lesson had been peaceful, and he’d enjoyed the younger boy’s quiet company. He could see where Trent was coming from, Beat _was_ painfully shy, which was completely contradictory when you considered his place in the Warblers.

The strawberry haired boy was exactly what his nickname suggested; their beat-box, and his place on the team was absolutely vital to their success. They’d lost their last drum-kit the previous year, when Wes’s predecessor had graduated, but Trent had introduced them to Beat and they’d been so desperate that he’d been accepted without an audition. He was somewhat of an enigma to Blaine in that he wished for a gift less superior to his own. It was okay having a voice; but in an acapella group, it was the unique gifts that were the most valued, and for the first time in probably their history, they had a drum-kit, a countertenor _and_ several songwriters on their squad simultaneously. They were in the strongest position they had ever been in, and here Beat was, wishing he could swap his talent out for the mundane.

He needed to have words with Wes.

First though, he had a meeting with the other, _older_ Montgomery on campus, and he was determined to work something out. He knew that he’d been a lot of work for Wes and Trent to deal with over the last couple of weeks, and it couldn’t continue. He couldn’t backslide now, not with just a few weeks until the end of the year, and with all of their exams on the way, _and_ Nationals prep to deal with. He needed to find a solution and _quickly_.

“Good morning Mr Anderson.” The headmaster greeted as he opened his door to admit his student. Blaine nodded his greeting, words having dried up in his mouth and he hesitantly made his way to the chair offered by the man. “Wes told me to expect you at some point this week, but I must confess I expected it to be much later, you have quite the busy time of it today, as I understand.” They settled down into the two large armchairs, that were situated by the windows and Montgomery poured them both a cup of coffee from a hot kettle on the side table.

“We have Nationals prep and I have a tutoring session with Senior Nixon this evening.” Blaine replied, accepting the mug, relaxing slightly. “That is why I simply couldn’t wait.”

“So, what can I do for you Mr Anderson?”

“Blaine, please.” Charles smiled at the young boy, who looked as though he was about to bolt, but had managed to speak up for himself to correct him. They had all learnt that it was the small victories that seemed the hardest for him, and he was immensely proud of what his son and his friends had managed to achieve.

“Of course. What can I do for you Blaine?”

“I need help.” Was the blunt reply, and his eyebrows lifted high as he took in the gravity of this situation. Blaine had not once asked for his help with _anything_ , perhaps knowing that without his parent’s agreement, there was nothing the school could officially do to assist his unique situation. This was a new development, and a _huge_ one at that.

“May I ask you to perhaps elaborate?” He asked softly and he watched as the young boy consciously and visibly reigned in his own emotions.

“Wes, Trent and the others graduate this year, and I am worried that I’m taking precious time away from their studies. Also, if I return after the summer, I am going to have no support system in place, and it has been weighing on all of our minds, Wes’s especially. I know that you have had arguments with my parents in the past, about getting me help, and you and I both know that it isn’t going to happen unless it consists of me taking a bunch of pills and being forced into conversion therapy. So, I’m not asking for a counsellor, or anything like that; I just might need someone to talk to off the record if things get a bit too much.” The first few sentences had come out in one big rush, but Blaine trailed off towards the end, as if scared he was going to cross an invisible line. Charles wondered just _how_ invisible the boundry actually was in the young boy’s mind.

“I see.” He said after taking a second to digest this information. “I am going to start by saying how grateful and proud I am, that you have trusted me enough with this Blaine. I remember a time, not to long ago when I would consider today a miracle. But you have grown so much since then, and I am fully aware of how much work has been put in to get to this moment. You are of course correct that I cannot appoint you a counsellor without your parent’s permission, and that unless you have _actual_ proof that they have plans for your summer, that my hands are tied legally.” Blaine shrank in on himself at that, and seemed ready to be told that he was on his own.

“However,” Charles continued, seeing those brown eyes fill with hope and feeling a sting in his chest at just how much Blaine relied on all of them. “If I were to assign you an _academic_ assistant, there could be no complaints on their side.”

“But I thought I was doing okay with school?” Blaine asked with huge eyes. “Trent’s been helping me.”

“Oh, you have been doing more than fine Blaine.” Charles reassured with a smile. “You have nothing to worry about with your schoolwork, but if a situation were to arise that would call for you to need some help, then I would be a pretty poor Headmaster to deny you that.”

“I still don’t get it.” The young boy replied, confusion on his face. Charles repressed a sigh as he decided to spell it out for him.

“I would like to discuss with you, about skipping a year in your studies Blaine.” Eyes that he had considered huge just a few seconds ago; were now impossibly wide. “The packages that Mr Knowles and Mr Nixon have been working you through, have all been taken from the Junior curriculum, and both assure me that should you choose to do so, you would easily be able to sit the Junior exams at the end of the year, meaning that you could progress into senior year after the summer. It would be more than enough of an excuse for me to assign you an academic assistant, and if he or she just so happens to be qualified to help you with the other side of things then; I guess it’s just a coincidence.”

“You would do that for me?” He asked in a tiny voice.

“I would simply be allowing you to take the tests.” Charles replied. “Everything else is down to you. I know that you are clever enough to pass, and I know that you will put the work in to ensure you do so, anything after that will be tackled when we get to it.”

“I could be a senior?” Charles chuckled at the boy’s obvious shock.

“Yes Blaine, you are _more_ than ready to become a senior.”

“I… I think I need some time to think this over sir.”

“Of course, you do. Talk to your friends and with Mr Knowles, and when you are ready, we’ll have another discussion.” Blaine nodded and jumped up, barely remembering to stick his hand out for the Headmaster to shake, before calling out a ‘ _Thank you!_ ’ as he practically ran from the office.

Charles Montgomery hadn’t missed the slip about the summer, and was determined to see that it was a _when_ and not an if. Blaine Anderson was a spectacularly bright mind, and he was damned if he was going to see him waste another year behind his peers in some inadequate _public_ school.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon’s lessons passed in a bit of a blur, and he was pretty sure that he’d failed the impromptu calculus test that Unwin had thrown at them. His thoughts had been spiralling since lunch, and he was desperate to get his friends to one side to talk. He was furious at Trent for not telling him that they had been working on the Junior curriculum, he was also so grateful that his chest could burst. He was terrified of letting them down, and yet he had never felt so positive in all his life. He could do this. He was _going_ to do this. Montgomery Sr had left him a choice, come back as a Junior with whatever support he could scrape together himself, or come back as a senior, with an _actual_ counsellor he could talk things through with.

“I take it your meeting went well.” Trent said, appearing at his side with a grin as they headed towards the Warblers’ commons.

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or challenge you to the ring.” Blaine replied dangerously. “How could you not tell me that I was working on Junior material?”

“We didn’t want to get your hopes up if you struggled.” Trent replied honestly with a shrug. “I know you would have been devastated if we’d done all the work for you to fail. But it’s not gonna happen, because we’re about three weeks away from finishing the last of the material and then I have the rest of the year to make sure its all revised and sunk in. You are doing great, and those practise essays we’ve been writing are going towards any marks you receive from the finals. Knowles has been watching over the whole process.” Blaine stopped them in the middle of the corridor to crush the other boy into a hug. “So, you’re not mad at me?” He asked hesitantly.

“Oh, I’m beyond mad.” The younger boy replied, squeezing him. “But my gratitude and love for you are outweighing it right now.” Trent laughed at that and they soon set off again towards practise.

For the first time all year, both boys allowed themselves to hope.


	14. Unorthodox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to be back a t a regular update schedule this week, but in the mean time, enjoy chapter 14!

“So, what do you think?” Blaine asked as he finished his pitch to the counsel. They had all sat and listened silently, and he couldn’t tell whether it was in horror for what he was suggesting or whether they were that impressed that he’d left them speechless. He had a feeling it was the former, as the rest of the group were looking as though he had grown another head.

“It’s certainly _unorthodox_.” Nick replied carefully. “And it would require a much lengthier and in-depth discussion on just how we would pull it off.”

“I can do it.” Beat said quietly, shrinking when all eyes turned to him. “I can do this, and I think I _want_ to do this. Blaine’s right, we play it too safe too often. Let me at least give it a go.” Seeing that the rest of the guys still looked unsure, Blaine pushed further to try and come to a compromise that they could all stomach.

“How about we set a time limit? We still have what, six weeks before Nationals? We work on standard choreography, and if we can’t get the arrangements nailed down within the next two weeks, we go back to whatever original plan you guys had. I really do think we have to _try_ this though.”

“I agree.” David replied from the other side of Wes. “What Blaine is suggesting is radical, but we have the talent in here to pull this off, and if Beat wants to give it a go then I say that we at least put it to a vote.”

“Okay.” Wes relented with a nod. “If you think we should attempt Sophomore Anderson’s approach then please sing a G. If you would rather we stick to a more _traditional_ program; then please sing a D.” Voices rose in unison and the decision was made.

“Congratulations Blaine, now take us through what this will entail.” Wes’s gavel came down and Blaine’s smile almost split his face in two.

* * *

“Want to tell me what has you in such a good mood?” Wes asked as they arrived back at the dorm. Blaine’s plan was to ditch his stuff and get changed into lounge clothes before hunting Trent down for his study session but he couldn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet and his grin had not shifted all afternoon.

“I spoke to your dad.” He rushed out. “He’s going to give me the chance to skip a year!” Wes froze at that, his mind blank as he took in his roommate’s unexpected reaction to the news.

“And how do you feel about that?” He asked slowly and carefully, measuring his words and keeping his tone neutral. “It’s going to require a lot of work on your part.”

“I know.” Blaine replied with a nod. “But I feel really good about this Wes. If what Trent and your dad is saying is true, then I could give the exams a really good shot at the end of the year. But the best part is that if I _do_ become a senior next year, I will be allowed to have an academic assistant assigned to me, and your dad promised to look for one that could help me with everything else too. I could _actually_ get a therapist! This is why I have to at least give this a try.”

“Please sit down Devon.” Wes sighed, running a hand over his eyes before patting the edge of the bed. “I need to talk to you about something before you get too excited.” Blaine looked at him in confusion, but nodded and sat on the edge of Wes’s bed, making eye contact with the older boy as he settled next to him. “I want to discuss the implications fully with you, to make sure that you understand just what you’ll be putting yourself through.” He said quietly.

“Implications?”

“Your senior year curriculum will be the hardest you have ever faced Devon.” Wes started gently, not wanting to scare him, but needing to know that Blaine understood what he was getting himself into. “Your homework load will increase thrice-fold, and you will be at a disadvantage when it comes to extra-curriculars simply because you will have skipped your Junior year. Yes, being the head of the Warbler council will look amazing on your portfolio, especially if you guys are defending National champions, but you need other things too, and you have less than two months before the end of this year to find a solution to that.”

“So, I need to get into more clubs.”

“Not to mention you will be here on your own, with a new roommate, _plus_ your move will garner gossip throughout the school, which means eyes are going to be on you. You need to make sure that you are ready for this Dev. You need to be _absolutely_ sure that you are in the headspace for it, because it will be the hardest year you will have ever faced.” Blaine went to cut him off and he held up his hand, silencing him in a heartbeat. “I know that your first year was _brutal_ , I’m not disputing that fact, but you had us to help you. I have been here when you’ve woken from nightmares. I’ve been here when you’ve gone wandering around the school at god knows _what_ hours of the night. I’ve been here when you’ve spent hours beating the shit out of a punching bag because you were stressed out. Right now, I’m _here_ Devon, but next year I won’t be, and I need you to understand that and try and get a hold on some of your more self-destructive tics.”

“I understand Wes. It’s going to suck without you guys. Beneath all of this excitement I’m shitting myself, but I honestly don’t think I could spend another two years here without them being detrimental. Next year needs to be my baptism by fire, and I intend for it to be so. Life is going to throw us all massive, screwed-up curveballs, and I need to learn how to deal with them better. I think I might have sorted the roommate issue, and I have a plan to try to get a handle on the stress, I can do this Wes. I know I can.”

“You understand that you will ultimately be moving into Hummel’s year group, and so there are going to be questions, yes?” Wes asked a raised eyebrow. He watched Blaine blanch at that and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I thought that might throw you off.”

“Kurt will understand.” Blaine said, not sounding as sure as he’d intended. This was supposed to be a _good_ thing.

“Will he?” Wes asked. “Because from where I’m sitting, Hummel seems to understand very little apart from how much money you have, and how pretty you look on his arm.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound so bitter and resentful, but he still hadn’t forgiven the public-school boy for the hurt he had caused Blaine. “You should never need to defend yourself Blaine, but against Kurt, I fear you won’t have a choice. You and I both know that he will be unlikely to let the matter go and I need you to be ready for that.”

“I need to tell him.”

“No.” Wes cut him off sharply. “No Devon I will not have you upsetting yourself over Kurt fucking Hummel. The person you _do_ need to have a discussion with though, is whoever you decide to board with. You said you already had someone in mind?”

“Trent asked me to try and get to know Beat a little better, and after I talked to him before Chem class this morning, I realised that he needs a friend. Trent seems to think that we’ll be good for each other, and I don’t mind going over some of the stuff before he moves in.”

“We could do it for you, if you like. Take him through the main points without you having to relieve it.” Blaine nodded at that in relief.

“Yeah, that would be good. But what am I going to do about Kurt?”

“You aren’t going to do anything.” Wes replied sternly. “You aren’t going to mention the possibility of you skipping. You aren’t going to get into conversations about boarding together, if he even suggests it you need to shut down that line of enquiry immediately. Ideally, I would tell you to stay as far away from him as you can, but I know that he is your friend so I will try not to be _that_ kind of douche. I just want you to be careful around him.”

“But doesn’t he have a right to know? I mean…”

“What kind of right does he have?” Wes growled, cutting Blaine off in irritation. “You owe him _nothing_ Blaine. Quite the opposite; in fact. You were the one who introduced him to the Warblers, _you_ were the one who stood up to his bully. You have bent over backwards to help him and you have gotten hurt in the process because he has turned out to be a jealous little shit. I need you to promise me that you won’t upset yourself over him.”

“I won’t.” Blaine whispered after a small pause. His eyes were now squarely fixed on his lap, and he could feel Wes’s eyes boring through him. He wouldn’t offer any information to Kurt, but he would certainly have to answer any questions that came up, otherwise he might cause more problems than he knew how to deal with. “I suppose I was just getting a little excited and not thinking this through fully.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Wes replied with a soft smile, rubbing the younger boy’s arm. “To help you understand the full scope of things. _That_ is something that isn’t going to change Devon. I’m always going to be on the other end of the phone if you need me.” Blaine nodded with a smile and rubbed his eye with his sleeve, even though no tears had spilt.

“I think I better go and find Trent.” He said in a small voice, and he pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms and one of Wes’s stolen Hockey tees; picking his bag up and heading out into the halls. Wes let him go with a sigh and felt like a right shit. He was beyond furious with his father, for getting Blaine’s hopes up, as he now needed to play devil’s advocate and look like an asshole in doing so.

He picked up his mobile and dialled his dad’s office, hoping that he would have enough time to have the discussion he needed to have, before Blaine bot back from Trent’s.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Trent asked quietly as he watched Blaine’s hand come up to tug on his hair for the fifth time in an hour. He gently reached out and untangled the younger boy’s fingers from his curls and hoped that whatever was bothering him didn’t involve him having second thoughts about what he’d discussed with Montgomery at lunch.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Blaine whispered, closing the calculus book and pushing it away, across the desk. He dropped his head into his hands and once again Trent had to stop him from pulling on his hair.

“Talk to me D.” Trent said softly, coaxing the younger boy out of his office chair and onto his bed. “Is this about what you discussed at lunch?”

“I’m going to be sharing classes with Kurt, and a dorm with Beat.” He stated. “What if I can’t keep up? I can’t start next year as a senior, only to flunk out and back into Junior classes half way through. I would be pulled out of school quicker than any of you could make it back, and they’ll put me into conversion. I can’t go to a camp.” His breaths started to quicken as his brain flashed to pictures of being forced to do things he didn’t want to. He had heard the horror stories. He’d read the news reports.

“D you need to calm your breaths.” Trent said firmly, gripping onto the younger boy’s hands. “Please D, focus on what’s around you. Tell me five things you can see.” It took a minute or two but eventually Blaine was choking out his answer.

“Your blazer, your bed, Beat’s bed, your desk and your laptop.”

“Good Blaine, now four things you can hear.”

“Your laptop, the bathroom fan, your neighbour and the rain.”

“You’re doing wonderfully.” Trent replied as his hand came up to rest on Blaine’s neck, checking his pulse before moving up to his head to check for a fever. “Now three things you can smell.” He ran his thumb down Blaine’s cheek, checking for clenched muscles that would indicate a migraine, but everything so far was good. His pulse was slightly elevated, but as his friend started to calm, so did the rapid fluttering from under his fingers, where he’d placed them back, more as something to focus on than anything.

“Your deodorant, raspberry hair gel and Wes’s wash powder.”

“Now two things you can feel.”

“Your fingers on my neck.” Blaine’s hands clenched into the sheets and he took a large rattling breath. “Your sheets.”

“Now one more thing you can see.”

“You.”

“Now some deep breaths for me. They took a few deep breaths in unison, and by the time his pulse had slowed down, the younger boy was barely keeping his eyes open. “Okay D, just rest for a minute or two.” Trent whispered; pulling him into a hug; tucking Blaine’s curls under his chin and rubbing his back soothingly. The younger boy practically melted in his arms and he knew that he was going nowhere under his own steam for the remainder of the night.

He looked up as the door opened and Beat stepped into the dorm with wide eyes, indicating that he’d heard a good portion of what had just happened. Trent smiled at him reassuringly and gestured for him to take a seat at the other side of Blaine. Beat did so, dropping onto the edge of the bed and looking at them both fearfully.

“Is he okay?” He asked in a whisper.

“He will be after a good night’s rest. He just gets overwhelmed sometimes.” Trent answered, pretty sure that Blaine was now fully asleep in his arms. “He had some news today that has confused him, he just needs time to sort through it.”

“Does this happen often?” Beat asked. There had been rumours of course about the eldest sophomore’s mental state, and there had been quite a few people present at Blaine’s meltdown in breakfast, two weeks prior; but he’d yet to witness it for himself, and he was _scared_.

“Not as often as it used to.” Trent replied sadly. “But yes, he still struggles. Things that seem small to us, can be huge obstacles for him sometimes, and he just needs help dealing with them.” A silence stretched between them, broken only by Blaine’s soft breathing.

“I want to help him.” Trent looked up from his charge to find Beat’s huge, grey eyes staring at him. “I want to be here for him like you are.”

“It’s a big thing to take on.” Trent whispered, in warning. “Blaine isn’t easy. He has migraines, nightmares and anxiety problems, and the smallest of things can trigger him in a big way. If you are sure about this then I will help you to understand. But you can’t decide in six months that he’s too much to handle. You could do an enormous amount of damage.”

“I get it Trent. My mom, remember?” Trent nodded in understanding and smiled at his younger roommate. “He can stop here tonight.” Beat said. “He can have my bed, and I’ll go bunk in with someone.”

“If he’s staying, it’ll be in mine.” Trent replied with a shake of his head. “I’ll go sleep over at his and Wes’s.”

“What if he has a nightmare?” Beat asked. “I don’t want him to wake up in a strange bed with only me, who is practically a stranger to him; trying to talk him down. He should be with you and Wes tonight.”

“How about we all go over to theirs and have a sleepout?” Trent asked, finding the middle ground. “You need to know this stuff if you’re serious about boarding with him, and he needs to learn that you are a safe space if anything happens to him.” Beat nodded his agreement and Trent bundled Blaine up into his comforter and lifted him into his arms, carrying him down the corridor to his own dorm, where Wes was waiting worriedly.

This was going to be a train wreck, and all they could do now was try to limit the damage done.


	15. Thimble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a larger chapter to make up for the days that I have left you hanging. I have another one already half finished that you may get either later today or at some point tomorrow, and I aim to have another one at least started before Friday.

Beat watched, terrified as Blaine screamed into his pillow and fought against Wes’s gentle hands. Trent was holding him back from wanting to go and try to help, and he tried to pull away once more as Wes called Blaine’s name loudly and with authority. It was enough to break the boy out of his nightmares, and he looked on with huge, tear filled eyes as Blaine broke down in the arms of his roommate.

“Give them a minute.” Trent said softly, tightening his grip slightly on his arm. “If you go over there now, you’ll scare him. Wes knows what he is doing.” Sure enough, it took a few minutes but eventually the dark-haired boy was soon tucked back into his bed; awake, but calmer now; staring at the wall with dark eyes that hadn’t completely stopped crying.

“Blaine?” Beat called out quietly, and both seniors stiffened at the use of his first name. Trent finally relinquished his hold on the sophomore, and Beat climbed up onto the foot of the bed, looking over at his future roommate with sad eyes. “Can I stay with you tonight?” Wes and Trent shot each other surprised looks, that turned into shock when Blaine hesitantly nodded his head. Beat smiled at that and snuggled down under the covers, quickly turning into a little spoon, pressed against Blaine’s back with his arms wrapped around a waist that had no business in being so small. It took a few minutes but Blaine eventually turned over, reciprocating the hug and allowing Beat to curl into his front; his head resting against his collarbone; strawberry curls tickling his nose.

“Are you okay?” Wes asked, his lips pressing into a thin line when all Blaine did was nod, his eyes falling back down to the smaller boy against him. If people called him pocket-sized, then Beat must be a thimble, he thought to himself. The boy was tiny. He felt Trent’s gentle hand brush his curls and he sighed; leaning into Beat and closing his eyes.

He was exhausted already and it was only Monday. How could he have even thought that he’d be _remotely_ okay next year? It was a discussion, he decided, for the weekend, when he managed to get his head screwed on right, and he wasn’t swamped in work for both class _and_ the Warblers.

“Get some sleep Devon.” Trent whispered. “We’ll be right here.” He nodded again into Beat’s hair, and he felt himself slip back to sleep, the ghosts of his nightmare lingering, but untroublesome.

Wes and Trent watched the pair fall asleep and as soon as their breaths had evened out, they stepped into the hallway, leaving the door open just a crack, so that they would be able to hear if they were needed. Both seniors jumped as the next door along opened, and Nick stuck his head out with a pained grimace.

“How bad was it?” He asked quietly, joining them in the corridor; Jeff trailing after him sleepily. Wes could do nothing but shake his head, resting against the wall and sliding down it, so that he was sat on the carpet. “That bad?”

“He’s getting worse.” Wes replied tiredly. “He’s had nightmares in the past couple of weeks, but none of them turned as violent as tonight’s.”

“He had an anxiety attack earlier.” Trent explained further. “Something has had him on edge for the last few days, and he keeps mentioning his parents and a conversion camp.”

“You think the bastards are planning on sending him to one?” Nick asked stonily; his eyes darkening. “Surely they can’t be _that_ cruel.” Jeff slipped his arm around his boyfriend; knowing that they were tiptoeing a touchy subject for the him, and wanting to make sure that he stayed grounded. “We _can’t_ let them do that.” It came out as a hiss and Trent stepped forwards to place a hand on Nick’s shoulder, anchoring him further into reality.

“We don’t know anything yet.” He said softly. “We cannot actually be sure, that it isn’t something Devon’s subconscious has taken out of context and twisted.”

“It isn’t.” Wes replied from his place on the floor. “They’ve threatened him with it in the past.”

“Threatening and _doing_ are two very different things.” Jeff replied, squeezing Nick’s waist slightly.

“It doesn’t make it any easier for him.” Trent replied irritably. “He was full on freaking out about it earlier. It’s what sent him down the road to an anxiety attack, and it’s the reason we’re all currently stood out here instead of being in our own beds. Blaine doesn’t know what his parents are going to do when he gets home, he just knows they’re gong to do _something_ , and with how badly it triggered him earlier, and hearing that from Wes, I’d say that his fears are well justified.”

“What do we do?” Nick asked. “I can’t lose anyone else to those bastards.”

“You won’t.” His boyfriend replied with utmost conviction. “I promise you now Nick that we won’t let them do that to him.”

“But what if…”

“No what ifs, no buts. I don’t want to hear it. This isn’t like before; we have people to help now.” Jeff sent an apologetic look at the other two seniors who just nodded; their eyes full of sympathy. Nick had lost two best friends to those conversion ‘ _camps_ ’, both suicides happening within a week of each other. It had been what had sent him to Dalton in the first place, and it was obvious to all of them that he was starting to see a pattern emerge. “Let me take you back to bed, and we’ll have a conversation about this in the morning, alright?” Nick nodded and allowed the blond to lead him back inside their dorm; his boyfriend mouthing a ‘ _good night_ ’ over his shoulder.

“Is there anything we _could_ do, if they decide to send him?” Wes asked, looking up at the other boy. “Legally, I mean.”

“I’ll talk to Uncle Chris tomorrow.”

“Remind me again _how_ you are related to the grandson of a former president.” Trent flashed him a grin at that.

“It gets confusing for me sometimes too. I usually just tell people it’s classified, which technically I suppose it is.”

“Not if you keep using the name.”

“There are plenty of Nixons out there, believe me. We should get back to bed. Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just I can’t stop thinking about how every time we take a step forward, we end up going three steps back.”

“How badly did you chew your dad out?”

“Bad enough.” Wes replied with a grimace. His relationship with his father was usually pretty good, but it had taken a turn that night, after Blaine had left for Trent’s mentoring session. “I just can’t believe he didn’t think to give us a heads up. I shouldn’t be the mature one in this situation.” Trent frowned deeply at that. Wes was right, a heads up would have been nice, instead he’d had to hear it from Beat, who’d caught an excited Blaine entering Calculus and had endured an hour of him bouncing in his seat in excitement. It had been pure luck that Beat had managed to let him know before he’d caught up with Blaine, heading to practice.

“I’m sure he has things handled Wes.”

“Yeah.” It sounded hollow, and he wondered just how many times Wes had been in this position with his father over the last couple of years.

“Let’s go back to bed. We are going to need the sleep for the morning.” He ushered his fellow senior up from the floor and they were both soon tucked back under sheets; Wes in his own bed and Trent on a camp pull-out on the floor.

* * *

His brain felt like it was battering against his skull, as his consciousness slowly clawed its way out of oblivion and back into the land of the living. There was something warm pressed against him, and he could faintly smell grapefruit from whatever was tickling his jaw.

“Devon?” He groaned and shifted slightly, tightening his hold on whatever it was he had his arms around. “Devon it’s just turned seven, I need you to wake up for me.” A hand started running through his hair and he felt fingers trace his scars. “Please Dev, I know you are tired but we have class. I got you a coffee and the shower is free, but you need to let go of Beat so that you can both get ready.”

Beat?

Images from the previous night flooded his memory and he opened his eyes; blinking as he registered what he was seeing. Beat’s grey eyes were watching him from where the young boy was curled into his side. Trent was sat on the edge of the bed, still running his hand through his hair, a small smile on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Well good morning sleeping beauty.” He greeted. “How are you feeling?” Blaine swallowed heavily and squeezed his eyes shut again with a groan.

“I think he has a headache.” Beat whispered. “His jaw is clenching.” He realised that his cheek was still pressed into strawberry blond curls, and that the other boy could feel his muscles clench against his head.

“Wes is already getting the painkillers ready, but we need you to sit up to be able to take them.” Trent replied. “I know you’re in pain but you really do need to get up, otherwise we’re going to be late.” He let out another groan and unwrapped his arms from Beat; sitting up with a sharp gasp of pain. His head felt as though it was splitting in two and white spots danced behind his eyelids. He felt a set of hands steady him and he realised that he’d almost slumped over.

“Is he okay?” Came Beat’s small voice. “He looks really pale.”

“Do you have any nausea?” Trent asked him softly, and he swallowed again, not being able to form a response.

“Should we get someone?”

“No, he just needs a minute to come around.”

“I couldn’t find the Gatorade.”

“That’s okay, water should be fine. The coffee will need to wait though. Did you get his meds?”

“They were all the way in the back of the cabinet. He hasn’t needed them in a while, we can usually manage with Advil and Tylenol.”

“Can he take them together?”

“Yeah, it’s Imitrex, he should be fine.”

“Please shut up.” He whimpered, ending the hushed conversation between the three. He pressed his palms to his eyes, his body tensing as a stab of pain attacked his right temple.

“Try to relax D. You’re making it worse.” He breathed out as he slowly loosened his muscles and he felt his hands being gently pulled away from his face. “Take these.” He felt a glass of water get pushed into his hand, along with a pile of pills. He swallowed them dutifully, finishing the water off before any of them could ask him to. “I’m so sorry D, but I need you to try and wake up for me. Can you open your eyes?” Trent sounded concerned, and he did as he was told, getting met with the senior’s worried eyes.

“Are you going to be okay?” Beat asked from the side of him.

“I’m cold.” Was his reply as he curled in on himself, a shiver going down his spine. Trent’s hand immediately came up to his head to check his temperature and the other boy let out a small sigh.

“Well you don’t have a fever, which I suppose is good news. Why don’t you go have a hot shower? We’ll lay your stuff out ready for you, and you still have a coffee to drink.” He nodded his acceptance and Wes reached out to grab his hand, coaxing his off the bed.

“Come on Dev, let’s get you sorted.” Beat watched as the senior led Blaine into the bathroom and he turned to his roommate with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” Trent asked, sitting next to him and wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

“I’m okay. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“I know.” The older boy said with a grimace. “We expected a nightmare, but not one as bad as that. You did good last night. We’ve never seen him get that comfortable with someone so quickly. You need to be careful though, if you don’t think you can handle this you need to tell us now before things go any further.”

“I want to help.” The younger boy replied, squaring his shoulders. “I can do this Trent. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, and so does D.”

“Why do you call him that?”

“His middle name is Devon.” Trent replied smoothly, throwing a glance over to the bathroom to try to assess how much time he had before the other two re-appeared. “He’s more comfortable with that than he is with his first name. His dad usually calls him Jr, unless he’s pissed or in a rage, in which case he uses his first name. When he’s scared or vulnerable, he can be triggered if we use his name with the wrong tone of voice. Devon is our safer option, and he’s happy for us to shorten it.”

“So, I should probably use Devon instead of Blaine?”

“If you like, but try not to make it too obvious that you’re doing it for that reason. Just try to fall into it naturally.”

“Okay.” Beat breathed out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. Like I said it’s just a lot to take in.”

“I know, and I promise you that we’ll sit down and give you a full rundown of things you should be watching out for. For what it’s worth though, you are doing really well. I’m proud of you.” The smaller boy beamed at that and Trent offered him a smile, squeezing his shoulders. “You should go and get ready; we’ll meet you on the stairs in half an hour.”

* * *

The meds had mercifully kicked in whilst he was in the shower and he felt less likely to throw up as he got dressed with shaky hands. Wes was there; sat on the toilet seat, facing away from him to give him some privacy, but still fully aware of the fact that he might be needed. Blaine was beyond grateful for his friends, and as soon as he was mostly dressed, he pulled the older boy to his feet and wrapped him in a hug.

“I’m sorry for last night. Thank you for being there.” Wes smiled down at him, his own arms wrapping around the smaller boy.

“You’re very welcome. I told you I’m here for you Devon. We all are.”

“I know I’m not easy to support, which is why I’m all the more grateful for having you in my life.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ll talk more tonight though okay? We should try to get some breakfast inside of you before class.” Blaine nodded and slipped on his blazer. His hair was still a mess of curls, and he knew that his eyes were bloodshot, but he was awake, dressed, and the pain was bearable. He could do this. They found Trent making both beds, the folding camp beds having been put away and as soon as he saw them, he swept Blaine into a hug; passing him the coffee as he let go.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m better than I was. We still need to talk though.”

“And we will D, just not right now. We need to get some food in you and try to get through classes.”

“Where’s Beat?”

“He’s meeting us on the stairs, he went to get dressed.” Blaine nodded at that and the three of them left the dorm, grabbing their things on the way out. Nick and Jeff were also waiting with Beat, when they reached the top of the staircase; Jeff’s arm around a subdued Nick’s waist and both of them looking as exhausted as he felt.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, a noise of surprise leaving him when the dark-haired boy wrapped him in a tight hug. He hesitantly returned it; rubbing his friend’s back. “What’s going on?” He felt Nick’s head shake against his shoulder.

“Later.” Jeff whispered, pulling his boyfriend away from the younger boy. “We’ll do this later.”

“Everyone keeps saying that this morning.” He said in frustration, his eyebrows pulling together. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just drop it for now Devon.” Wes said quietly, his hand coming down to rest on his shoulder. “I promise you that we’ll discuss this today, just not right now, and certainly not here.” Blaine glanced around and realised that Wes was right, there were too many people milling around, on their way down to breakfast or rushing past them, back to the dorms for forgotten homework.

“Okay. But we will be having a talk this afternoon.”

“We promise.” Trent replied quietly. “But for now, we need to get to breakfast, time’s getting on.” The six of them headed down to the dining hall and found a table near the windows, grabbing coffee and toast from the side table. They were silent as they ate, each lost in their own thoughts, and none of them noticed when another boy approached the table.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Wes was shooting daggers at the newcomer who seemed determined to stand his ground and keep his head high, despite the wave of animosity radiating from the older boys.

“Budge up one Wes.” Blaine said tiredly, rubbing his forehead, missing the incredulous look shot at him by his roommate. Trent shook his head slightly and Wes complied, moving around to sit next to Nick and opening the seat up between him and Blaine. Kurt sat down with an apprehensive look, nodding at Wes as he did so.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Was the muttered reply through gritted teeth from the older boy. The table then lapsed back into silence, though the air had grown thick with tension.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” Kurt finally asked, trying to ignore the glare he was receiving from Wes. “I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“It was good.” Blaine replied quietly. “We went into Columbus on Sunday. Needed to get out of the school for the day.” Kurt nodded with a smile before frowning in confusion at Beat, who was sat at the other side of Blaine, one hand resting on Blaine’s wrist; almost unconsciously as he continued to eat his breakfast and read through his calculus homework with his other.

“We heard you visited McKinley.” Trent said, trying to break the ice.

“They were trying to raise money for the tickets to Nationals.” Kurt replied stonily. “They were holding a concert to try to raise the funds.”

“Shouldn’t the school be paying for that?” Jeff asked with a frown.

“Not all schools are as well funded as this one.” Kurt bit out, a little testily.

“Please.” Wes responded with a scoff. “If that cheerleading coach at McKinley can afford a human cannon, a private bus and several thousand on the various props she hides her mediocre girls behind, I’m sure there is room in the budget for airline tickets.”

“Some of those girls are my friends.” Kurt was getting more and more pissed off, and his tone was both defensive and accusatory.

“They might be, that still doesn’t make them good cheerleaders. The girls from Crawford annihilated them at Regionals this year.”

“That’s because her best girls weren’t with them.” Kurt growled. “They were performing at a football game.”

“You mean that she wasted her budget and then half her girls never bothered turning up?” Wes asked with raised eyebrows. “No wonder they have no funding for anything else.”

“Shut up okay?” Kurt shouted, loosing his temper and standing up, his chair getting pushed backwards. Blaine buried his head into his hands, the volume of the outburst irritating his still present, if dulled, headache. He felt Beat’s hand come up to bury into his hair and leaned into the touch. “You have _no_ idea what it’s like at that school.” Kurt had continued; oblivious to what was happening next to him.

“Blaine?” Beat asked quietly, feeling how tense the older boy was beneath his hand. “Blaine it’s okay.” Kurt now paled, realising what he'd done and staring at Blaine with wide eyes. “We should take him to the nurse.” Beat continued, turning to look at Trent. “He’s gone really pale again.” There was a curse from Wes and before Kurt knew it, he was following the four seniors and Beat as they managed to coax Blaine up from his chair and out of the dining hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will start getting better for them all, but I needed to get them to a certain point before I could begin to build them back up. We've still got a couple of chapters left to go before that point but I promise things will start to get better.


	16. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter is a little longer than the previous ones, there just wasn't a good place to finish it. It was burning a hole in my save files and so I couldn't resist posting it. Hope you enjoy!

“His blood pressure is low and he’s slightly dehydrated, but aside from the obvious headache he’s okay. His weight is a little lower than I’d like, but it’s up from where it was six months ago, which I suppose is all I can really expect.”

“He’s been struggling.” Wes said quietly from the chair beside the bed. “His nightmares have come back, and he’s barely picking at his food.”

“What are these bruises?” Wes fell silent as the nurse lifted one of Blaine’s hands to examine the damage. “Has he been in a fight?”

“No.” He replied quickly. “He got a little carried away on the punching bag last week. He strained some muscles in his wrists, but with the Advil he’s been taking for his headaches, he’s not really noticed. I haven’t let him back out to the gym, and I don’t plan on doing so until the bruising has gone.”

“I know that you are trying to protect your friend Wesley.” Poppy said kindly letting go of Blaine’s hand so that he could draw it back against his chest. “And I know that Blaine struggles with coming to see me. But these kinds of things are in my remit, and I should really know about them in case there are any complications. You are trying to take on too much, and it is my job to see that all you boys stay healthy and fit.”

“We know Miss Blake, but we genuinely thought that we were managing.” Trent said from his place by the door. Nick and Jeff were babysitting Kurt outside, but Beat had insisted on being in the room as the school nurse looked over Blaine, who was by now, too out of it to notice. “He was doing a lot better, then the last couple of weeks have come as a bit of a blow to him. His confidence has been knocked, and as Wes said, his nightmares have come back.”

“How bad are they?”

“Last night was bad.” Wes responded with a grimace. “But it was the worst one he’s suffered in a while. Usually I can get him calmed back down again within minutes, but Trent mentioned he’d had an anxiety attack before we put him to bed, which made the whole thing worse.”

“He’s been having anxiety attacks?” Poppy asked, sitting down behind her desk and looking over the three boys who were all there for their friend.

“A few more than is normal for him, but nothing we haven’t been able to handle. He’s still much better than he was last year.” Wes replied, defending their decision to leave her out of the loop.

“He really has been better Miss Blake.” Beat whispered. He was sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on Blaine’s ankle. “Everyone has noticed it. He’s just had a stressful couple of weeks is all.”

“And that’s understandable.” Trent butted in. “We’re getting closer to the end of the year, so he has been worrying about what will happen after the summer, the Warblers have been ramping up their practises and the amount of work Mr Knowles and I have been giving him has slowly increased. He’s worried about going home to his parents, and after Headmaster Montgomery met with him yesterday lunch, he had a lot more to think about than that.”

“I get it boys, and I’m not angry with any of you. I just wish the circumstances were a little different. Let’s get him through this headache and see where we’re at tomorrow morning.”

“Can’t take time off.” Blaine struggled out, his eyes rolling in his head as his breath hitched. He’d mostly let the conversation wash over him but now he needed them to understand. “Skipping a year, have work to do.”

“Devon your grades aren’t going to plummet in the space of a day.” Trent said softly, wandering over to the bed and sitting down next to the younger boy, rubbing his shoulder. “Your studies are going fine and we can catch you up over the weekend if needs be. Right now, your health is more important and you’re in no fit state to go to class. Let Miss Blake help.”

“No.” Blaine shook his head before grimacing and mashing his face into the pillow as pain washed over him.

“Blaine please.” Beat begged desperately; watching the older boy curl in on himself. “Please listen to us. You need rest. Your sleep last night was disturbed, and Wes says you haven’t been sleeping well for over two weeks. Please just take the day in bed to get better.”

“He’ll be going nowhere under his own steam Mr Windsor.” Poppy said, smiling slightly when Beat blushed at the use of his surname. “My suggestion is that we find someway to get you all back to the dorms. He’ll be much more comfortable in his own bed than down here with me.”

“So, you’re excusing him from classes?” Wes checked.

“That I am. I am also excusing Mr Windsor here so that he might keep an eye on him. You and Mr Nixon however can’t afford to miss any more classes for the next couple of weeks. I’m still a little aggrieved that you did not come for my help a fortnight ago, but there we are. What is done is done.”

“If you will allow me to stay with him just for first period, I can get him upstairs whilst everyone else is in class. I can pick up anything I’ve missed this weekend.” Trent said, with a pleading look. “He’d much rather me do that than try to carry him through the late breakfast rush.”

“Very well.” Poppy replied with a nod. “But I expect you and the rest of your friends outside to return to classes immediately.” She said, levelling Wes with a stern look who nodded with a grateful smile.

“Be good for me Devon, and I’ll come up and see you at lunch.” He said; running a hand through Blaine’s curls. “I promise you that you will feel better after some sleep and some of Miss Blake’s painkillers.” He was gifted a grunt in reply from Blaine and he smiled at the half-asleep boy. “Thank you, Miss Blake.”

“Not a problem Wesley.” She replied as the boy stood up and nodded to her. “We’ll take good care of him.”

* * *

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Kurt asked, throwing worried glances at the door to the school’s in-house hospital.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t been through before.” Jeff replied bitterly. “Trent and Wes will get him through it. They always do.”

“What about Beat?” Kurt asked, quirking an eyebrow. “He seemed pretty attached to Blaine at breakfast.”

“You don’t know shit Hummel.” Nick growled, his nerves on edge. “What are you even doing here? At the first sign of Blaine not being interested in you, you turn into a jealous asshole. You aren’t good for him.”

“How am I supposed to know what to do around someone who’s acting like a headcase?” Kurt growled. He gasped as Nick lunged at him and threw him against the wall, his arm going up to his throat to keep him there.

“You fucking asshole.” He growled. “You don’t know fucking shit about any of us, _especially_ not Blaine. I hear anymore bigoted, vile shit come out of your mouth and I promise you that you will _never_ work anywhere outside of Lima. Any of us could ruin you with a word in the right ear. You have no idea what, or _who_ the fuck you’re dealing with, and if you don’t learn quickly, the consequences will be far reaching and _dire_.”

“Nick, let go of him.” Jeff said softly, his hand coming up to rest on his boyfriend’s arm. “You know that this isn’t the right way of doing things, and you won’t be able to help Blaine if you get yourself suspended.”

“You stay the _fuck_ away from him Hummel.” Nick growled dangerously. “I mean it.” He removed his arm from the younger boy’s neck and stepped away; his breathing heavy and his eyes dark. It was this scene; with a worried Jeff trying to calm down his boyfriend, and a terrified Kurt still pressed against the wall; that greeted Wes as he left Poppy’s office. He took one look at Nick and sighed; his hand coming up to rub his eyes.

“What happened?”

“He threatened me!” Kurt almost shrieked; pointing at Nick.

“What with?” Wes asked coolly; his eyebrows raising.

“Destitution.” Nick replied stonily, still glaring at the other boy. Wes couldn’t help himself; he had to chuckle at that. Trust Nick to get dramatic.

“You think this is _funny_?” Kurt asked, his voice rising an octave.

“Not the situation, no.” Wes replied. “There is nothing funny about what is going on here. I just find Nick’s choice of words amusing. I’m going to square with you Hummel, because anyone who knows me will tell you how little I care for social niceties. You have obviously gotten yourself in deep with your feelings towards Blaine, whatever the motivation behind them. But our problem comes when those feelings turn toxic. I will admit that this morning wasn’t completely your fault. I shouldn’t have started the debate with you, knowing that Blaine was battling a migraine. But your comments two weeks ago caused a lot of upset, and it has fallen on us to help Blaine through it.”

“He called him a headcase.” Nick growled.

“Take a walk Nick.” Wes said quietly, nodding to Jeff. “I’ll see you in class.”

“But…”

“Go.” Wes growled, pointing down the corridor. “Now.”

“Come on Nick.” Jeff whispered, tugging on his boyfriend’s hand. “We don’t want to be here for what comes next.” Nick sighed and relented, trailing after the blond, his shoulders still tensed under his blazer.

“Is that true?” Wes asked quietly. “Did you call him that?”

“What the hell am I supposed to think?” Kurt replied with a growl. “He freaks out on me in the middle of the dining hall, then a week later we’re sat drinking coffee like nothing ever happened. I might not know much about him, but I can smell crazy a mile off.”

“That’s what you think? That he’s some psychotic weirdo?” He started advancing on the younger boy, who pressed himself back into the wall.

“What else am I supposed to think?” Kurt repeated.

“Blaine was _gay-bashed_ Hummel.” Wes growled. “Is that what you wanted to hear? He got his fucking _head_ caved in by a baseball bat. You think the bullying was bad at _your_ school? He spent months in a fucking _coma_. So yeah, if he gets triggered by someone shouting abuse in his face in the middle of the fucking dining hall, then he’s gonna have flashbacks and anxiety problems. You have no idea what it’s like to experience true hatred. Your bully shoulder-checked you and smashed your phone, Blaine’s almost killed him.” Kurt was white by this point, his eyes wide and his breathing shaky. “You stay the _fuck_ away from him. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the fucking year, and if I find out that you are causing problems after the summer, I promise you that I will carry Nick’s threat out myself. You’re a jealous, hypocritical, bigoted shit, and you are have caused us too many problems already.” Wes stalked off after that, not trusting himself to be around the other boy any longer.

* * *

“You are supposed to be in class Mr Hummel.” Poppy said as she opened the door to allow Trent to carry Blaine through. The smaller boy was wrapped in one of her spare blankets, and was laying; bridal style in Trent’s arms, a few dark curls just sticking up out of the sheet. Kurt was still stood opposite the door, where he had been ever since Wes had left, ten minutes ago and as soon as it had opened, he’d locked his eyes onto Blaine.

Blaine had been bashed.

Blaine had been in a _coma_.

It explained _so_ much.

“Mr Hummel?” The nurse’s voice broke him out of his shock and he shook it off. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes… Class… Sorry, I’ll get there now.” She nodded as her and Trent passed him, presumably taking Blaine up to the dorms. He watched them go before noticing that Beat hadn’t moved from the doorway, and was watching him with sad eyes.

“I don’t know what went on between you.” He said quietly. “But Blaine isn’t in a good place right now. I think space would do you both some good. He’s hurting, and the guys are very protective of him. Please take my advice, and just try to keep your distance for a little while. When he’s ready, Blaine will come to you, but he has a lot to be tackling, and he can’t afford any distractions at this minute.”

“Will he be okay?” He asked.

“In time.” Beat replied with a soft smile. “But these things are never simple, and Blaine has more complications than most when dealing with emotions. Give it time Kurt, that’s all you can do right now.” With that, Beat shuffled down the corridor, following Trent and Miss Blake as they made their way up to the dorms.

“Fuck.” Kurt cursed, banging his head back against the wall.

* * *

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?” Burt asked as he answered the call from his son.

“I know dad, it’s just something happened at school and I just really needed to talk to you.”

“They’re not giving you a hard time, are they? Because we spent a lot of money on that school so that you could be safe.”

“I am safe, dad.” Kurt replied. “And I’m getting only what I deserve. I hurt Blaine.”

“So, this is about a guy.” Burt said with a sigh, sitting behind his desk in the shop and nudging the office door closed with his foot. “I don’t know what to tell you Kurt, I’m not the best person to be having this talk with you.”

“I said some awful things to him dad. And he’s not dealing with it very well, and his friends are really protective.”

“Well it’s something you’re just going to have to move on from kid. Look, do you think dating was all sunshine and rainbows before I met your mother? No Kurt, it wasn’t. It’s a minefield out there son, and you’re going to slip up every now and again. The best advice I can give you, is to apologise. If he accepts it then great, you both move forward and you learn from it. If he doesn’t then you still move on, because that’s his decision, and it doesn’t matter what you said or didn’t say, some things are going to hurt more than others. That’s just a fact of life.”

“He was gay-bashed dad. And I didn’t know. I think I triggered something because he had a meltdown at breakfast a couple of weeks ago, and since then he’s become erratic. I can barely get near him for his friends, and I think I’ve long since missed my chance to apologise.” Burt blew out a sigh at that, finding it difficult to equate the polite young man he’d met a few weeks ago, to a victim of a hate crime. Blaine was obviously smart, well spoken and well put together. It looked like things with the young man weren’t all they seemed though.

“Look Kurt, I wish I knew what to tell you. It sounds like that kid has been through the mill, and you can never be sure what’s going to come out the other end of a situation like that. All I’ll say is that if he truly wants to hear you out, he will come to you. Just give it time, and if it looks like things aren’t going to straighten themselves out then you move on.” There was a sigh on the other end of the phone.

“You’re right dad. I know you are. I just…”

“You’re hurting. I understand that Kurt, but by the sounds of it, so is he. Give him space, give him time and if in the end it doesn’t work out, then you’ve learnt a valuable life lesson.”

“Thanks dad.”

“Anytime Kurt, but please get to class.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too kiddo.” Burt sighed again as he ended the call. The news that Blaine had been a victim had shaken him slightly. He didn’t strike Burt as a guy who would take a beating without fighting back, the kid was brave, headstrong. He’d confronted him about Kurt's sex life for Pete’s sake, he was anything _but_ a shrinking violet. But Kurt wasn’t like that. Sure, he was brave and smart, but he was also severely underequipped to defend himself if he needed to, and that worried him.

“Hey Burt!” He looked up as Steve knocked on his office window and gestured over to a woman who looked a little put out at the amount of grease on Tony’s coveralls. “Tony needs back up.” He nodded and opened his office door, making his way over to the customer and Tony.

“Can I help you guys?” He asked.

“Yes, Pamela Anderson.” The woman greeted, holding out her hand. Burt’s eyebrow quirked and he took in her face, recognising the large brown eyes and the curled dark hair.

“Burt Hummel.” He replied smoothly, taking her hand and shaking it. “What can I do ya for?”

“My husband is out of town and our usual garage is closed. I was just asking your colleague here about a rear tire for my car.”

“Is that a Buik Super?” Burt asked, his eyes widening in wonder at the vehicle the woman had gestured to.

“A 1949 estate, yes.”

“I was explaining that we might struggle.” Tony said.

“I’m afraid he’s right. I can shop around and probably have one for you by the end of the week though.” Burt replied. “Is it desperate? Would you mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all.” Pamela responded. Burt nodded and wandered over to the car, checking out all four tyres before having a bit of a admire.

“She’s a beauty.” He said, smiling at the woman. “I think you’ll get away with that back tire for now, I can put some air in it today, but it’ll need swapping within the week. Like I said, I’ll have a shop around and get one ordered for you.”

“That is most kind of you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied with a smile. “I think our boys go to school together.”

“Oh, I doubt it.” She replied, giving him the once over. “My son is in a _private_ boarding school in Westerville.”

“Yeah, Dalton.” Burt replied with a polite smile, despite the obvious sneer on Pamela’s face. “That’s where Kurt goes too. I believe they’re in glee club together.”

“Oh dear, I am so sorry.” She said, patting his arm. “I didn’t realise that any son of yours could be _that_ way. My condolences. I can give you the name of the counsellor that my husband and I will be using over the summer. He specialises in young boys, and several of his patients are now happily married with children. It pains me and my husband to see our son so confused. We fully believe that after the summer he’ll be much more receptive to taking a wife.” It took a minute for Burt to realise what she was saying, but once he did, he felt sick to his stomach. It was one of the first things he researched when he’d realised that his son was gay. Not that he’d ever intended to send him to one, but so that he could be sure Kurt couldn’t be _forced_ to go to one. The stories made him sick.

“I’m sorry Mrs Anderson. But I believe that Kurt is what he is, and nothing will change that. The statistics don’t match up to what those kinds of Doctors preach, and I trust my son to know who he is.” He said eventually. “They’re just kids after all.”

“Yes, quite.” She replied, looking at him in distaste. “Well if you change your mind, I’d be happy to refer you.”

“Unneeded, but thank you for the offer. Now you be careful on that back tire and I’ll see you towards the end of the week.” She nodded her thanks and Burt watched as she pulled out of his lot. Another piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place, and he didn’t much like the picture that was starting to build.


	17. Prince

“How is he?” Wes whispered, watching Beat as he turned over the cool, damp cloth on Blaine’s head. “Did you use the lavender oil?”

“Yeah. He’s slept through since this morning, but I was going to wake him up soon for more meds and something to eat.”

“I brought a Gatorade and some clear soup from lunch.” Wes offered, taking out a foil parcel and a bottle from his bag. “Electrolytes help. And I brought you hot take out; I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“Thanks, hot’s fine. Do you want to wake him up, or are you happy for me to do it?”

“You can do it.” Wes replied. “I have to get to the practise room to organise this afternoon’s session. I’ll be back just before classes start again.” Beat nodded and watched the senior Warbler go with a sad smile. Wes worried far too much. He turned to the food that was now sat on Blaine’s desk, and decided to eat before waking the older boy up. He didn’t want him feeling sick with the smell of whatever was on offer in the dining hall.

He sighed in relief when he saw the spaghetti bolognaise and quickly ate, wrapping his rubbish up tightly when he was done, and opening the window. He grabbed the second parcel and the bottle of Gatorade, as well as the meds that Miss Blake had prescribed before sitting on the edge of Blaine’s bed and brushing his hand through the boy’s hair.

“Devon?” He said quietly; the name slipping out surprisingly easy. “Devon, I need you to wake up for me.” There was a groan from the younger boy, and he turned onto his side; the lavender infused compress falling from his forehead as he attempted to bury his head into the pillow. “I know you feel like crap, but I need you to eat and drink something so that you can take your meds.” Beat said gently; lifting the pillow from Blaine’s head and burying his hand in his hair; pausing when he felt the tell-tale bump of a scar. He traced it with his finger and swallowed thickly when the full scope of Blaine’s head injuries became clear.

“Not hungry.” Was the mumbled reply; half muffled by the sheets and barely audible.

“I know Dev, but if you don’t eat you can’t take your meds. It’s just some clear soup, nothing too heavy, and Wes brought you a Gatorade to help with the electrolytes. He said it would make you feel better.” There were a few minutes silence and he let the older boy be, hoping that his hand, buried in his hair, might coax him into the land of the living. “Come on Devon.” He said softly again, when it was clear that Blaine had no intentions of moving. “The quicker we get this done, the quicker you can go back to sleep.” There was a groan and Blaine slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the rear wall and glaring at him through thick eyelashes.

“You’re a traitor.” He said, holding his hand out expectedly. Beat laughed at that, deciding that a grumpy Blaine was a funny one and he passed the older boy the bottle of Gatorade and three pills.

“Trent would have called me a bastard.” He said with a grin; watching as Blaine necked the pills with a huge swallow of orange.

“Trent doesn’t swear.”

“He doesn’t swear in front of _you_.” Corrected Beat. “The rest of us however, are in his firing line at all times. You should have heard him chewing Wes out last Friday night. It was enough to make a sailor blush.” Blaine’s eyebrows rose at that and he sipped on the bottle of orange, deep in thought. “Ready for some soup?” He asked, reaching out to the desk and unwrapping the carton from the foil.

“What’s floating in it?” Blaine asked as they both studied the clear carton.

“Carrot?” It was more a question than an answer, as neither of them could be absolutely sure. “It looks edible at least.” He tore off the lid and despite its suspicious appearance, the broth smelt amazing. He handed the carton to Blaine and watched the boy take a tentative sip; his eyes going wide as he realised how good it was. “You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t slow down.” He said in warning as Blaine proceeded to gulp half the soup down in one go.

“I’ll be fine.” Was the muttered reply and his friend promptly finished off the soup, clicking the lid back on and throwing it towards the garbage can; missing completely.

“How do you feel?”

“More human, I guess? Head still hurts but I’m not seeing dark spots anymore.”

“That’s good. Finish the Gatorade, and a glass of water and then I’ll let you back to sleep. Miss Blake told us to keep your fluids up, and she kind of scares me.”

“She’s a sweetheart really.” Blaine replied with a grimace. “I just don’t do well with medical staff or hospitals. I spent so long…” He trailed off and took another sip from the bottle, avoiding eye contact with the younger boy. Beat sighed and climbed up onto the bed, curling against Blaine’s side.

“I know you get scared. I do to sometimes. My mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was six. She’d had it longer than that but it was the first time she’d been bad enough to go to hospital. She sees things that aren’t there sometimes, and she thought I’d come to hurt her.”

“Did she hurt _you_?”

“She didn’t mean to. I know that she didn’t, but my arm got broke and I was _so_ scared. We’re both better at dealing with it these days, and of course I’m here a lot of the time but, I don’t like hospitals either. They make me think of those early days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We learnt to live with it.” Beat replied with a shrug. “I worry sometimes because it can be genetic, and I don’t know if I’ll ever… I guess sometimes I just get scared that they’re going to lock me up like they did to her. She had to go on meds after that incident, and they kept her locked in her own room. I’m scared that it’ll be me one day.”

“I get it.” Blaine whispered. “After what happened, after I woke up from the coma and came _here_ , I was terrified that all of these nightmares, and my anxiety and my problems were going to get me tossed in the loony bin. The changes that it caused just gave my parents another thing to attack. I’m not a perfect son, like my brother is, and I struggle with things more than ever now because of what they did to me. I’m gay, and retarded, and I have meltdowns for no apparent reason. I just want to be normal.”

“Can you not use that word?” Beat asked quietly. “Please?”

“Gay?”

“No. The R word. Don’t use it, especially when it comes to yourself. You are not slow or stupid, you wouldn’t be skipping a year if that were the case. You just struggle with social cues, and your past trauma affects your emotions in ways that are difficult for you to understand. You have never been to a therapist, so you have only the tools Wes and Trent have given you to help with your anxiety. The R word is what other people will use against you to make you feel inadequate. You are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met Devon. You were in a coma, and now you are skipping a year of high school because you are so smart. Don’t let anyone ever call you inadequate, and don’t _ever_ call yourself it, because you’re _not_.” Blaine was looking down at him with large eyes, as if seeing him for the first time, and he realised that he might have actually gotten through to his elder classmate.

“Where have you been hiding?” He asked and Beat positively beamed at that, feeling good that he’d managed to make Blaine feel better. He snuggled into his side and wrapped his arms around the older boy’s middle. “Can I ask you something personal?” Blaine asked quietly, after they had spent a few minutes in silence, curled together against the wall.

“Sure.”

“What is your first name? I feel awful that I don’t know it, and everyone calls you Beat. I know that you are a Windsor, and that you have ties back to England, anyone could figure that out, but you never use your first name.”

“It’s Edward.” Beat whispered. “After my great-grandfather.”

“You’re royalty?” Blaine asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Not really. I don’t think they know I exist. My great-grandmother hid her pregnancy, there were so many rumours around her in those days, and when she had my grandfather, she was sequestered away in the Bahamas with Edward.”

“Holy shit, you are related to the queen of England!” Blaine gasped with wide eyes. Beat chuckled at his friend’s shock and buried his head into his shoulder to hide his blush.

“Don’t tell anyone?” He asked quietly.

“Don’t worry Prince, your secret is safe with me.” Blaine replied, wrapping an arm around the boy and resting his cheek on the top of Beat’s head. They sat like that for a little longer; The older boy dozing off after about ten minutes, and Beat knew that he had to get him back into bed otherwise the inevitable sore neck was going to make his headache flare.

“Let me tuck you back in Devon.” He whispered, knowing he had to wake him, but wanting to do it gently. “You’ll be much more comfortable.” There was a slight grunt from the body next to him and he smiled; wiggling out of Blaine’s grip and gently coaxing him back under the sheets; replacing the pillow he’d stolen earlier. “Get some rest D. I’ll be right here.” He brushed Blaine’s curls with his hand and got up from off of the bed, deciding to borrow one of Blaine’s copies of The Half Blood Prince, and settling onto Wes’s bed.

* * *

“Question for the council!” One of the younger Warblers called out; standing from the sofa with his hand up.

“Yes, Junior Member Wright.” Wes replied, banging his gavel. “Acknowledged, please go ahead.”

“I can’t help but notice that we are two members short this evening, _again._ Sophomore Anderson has started to miss more and more practices, and I can’t help but wonder as to his loyalty to this team. It was only yesterday that he was begging us to revise the setlist, _without_ arrangements already in place, and now Beat is missing, and we’ve already lost Hummel. I can’t help but wonder how many more members he is going to lead astray.” Wes managed to count to three before the room positively exploded into angry shouting.

Trent’s mouth had instantly turned dirty; much to the shock of almost everyone in the room, Thad looked about ready to commit murder, and Jeff was wondering if he should do something about his boyfriend; who was currently stood on his chair, going purple from a very long-winded and vicious rant. Wes looked on in horror and resignation and he allowed the room to descend into chaos, knowing that if they didn’t let off some steam now, then it would continue to build until the top blew.

“You’re a fucking traitor and a backstabber Logan Wright.” Trent shouted. “Fuck you and your fucking asshole jealousy.”

“That’s enough!” Wes finally shouted, banging his gavel in a desperate attempt to restore some order. “That’s enough.” He said again as the noise quietened down into discordant muttering. “Please try to restrain yourself from using such language in this forum Senior Member Nixon, it is most unbecoming.” Trent nodded, his face red from a mixture of embarrassment and lingering anger. It seemed as though he’d been wound up a little tighter than he had realised but it had felt good to yell in defence of his friend. “For your information Junior Wright; Sophomore Anderson was admitted to the medical wing this morning for a severe migraine.”

“He is currently being looked after by Beat.” Trent spat out, shooting an apologetic look at Wes, who had glared at him.

“Trent is correct. Sophomore Anderson received some disturbing news from home, two weeks ago, and yet he still managed to turn up to both practises that weekend, in preparation for our regionals. May I also remind you that it was _he_ who worked on both our original song, and the arrangement for our mashup. I can tell you all here and now that Blaine spends more of his spare time on music than he does on his classwork, and although yes, he’s missed practices recently for medical issues, he continues to work on arrangements for this group.”

“I see him in here on the piano most lunch times.” One of the other sophomores piped up from somewhere in the back of the room. “And he always seems to be doodling on sheet music.”

“I caught him down here several times last week before practises and in the evenings.” Freshman, Evan Lindley replied. “He helped me run through some scales.”

“I have no doubt as to his _talent_.” Logan replied testily. “It would just be nice for the guy to turn up.”

“You’re an asshole Wright.” Thad growled. “Do you think he’s bunking off for the fun of it? Migraines fucking suck, and you’re asking him to plough through, even though it would probably end up doing him in for classes the next day? What kind of dickweed are you?”

“Now gentlemen, _please_.” Wes said, banging the gavel again.

“You didn’t tell _him_ off for language.” Trent muttered.

“Nixon.” David growled from Wes’s right hand side, shutting Trent back up.

“Look, I know that after Regionals, tensions have been running high, and I know that we are all passionate about what goes on in this room. But I don’t know if I can say the same about Blaine as I can about the rest of you. I went up to check on both him and Beat at lunch time, and he was completely out of it. Poppy has him on some serious meds that put him on his ass, and still the first thing he asked when I accidently woke him up, was about Warbler practise. He’s desperate to get back in this room with us all. Blaine _breathes_ music, and you all must have realised that the majority of our arrangements come from _him_.” There were several blushing faces around the room, indicating that many certainly did _not_ know that. “He is one of the most driven individuals I have ever met, and despite his migraines, despite being up to his eyeballs in double the amount of coursework as the rest of you, despite taking the time to run the FC, and still keep up his offer of guitar and piano lessons which most of you take him up on; he _still_ finds the time to devote effort and sleepless nights to this club. It is no secret that I have earmarked him as my successor next year, and I fully intend for him to take up the gavel. So, if _any_ of you have an issue with Blaine, please tell us now, rather than waiting to be dicks about it in a few months.”

“Language.” Trent muttered, receiving a glare from Wes.

“Well? Does anyone want to add anything to Warbler Wright’s statement?” The room fell completely silent, as if even a cough, or a sniffle could be construed as agreeing with Logan. “Then I suggest we close this meeting here for today.”

“We haven’t discussed anything to do with competition!” Logan protested.

“And we won’t be doing so until all of us start to realise that we’re a team.” Wes said coolly. “Blaine will be back in rehearsal on Thursday, we can pick up this discussion then.” The gavel came down and that was the end of that.

* * *

“Has he been okay?” Wes asked quietly as he stepped back into the dorm.

“You’re back early. How was practise?” Beat asked, looking up from the Harry Potter book he’d stolen from Blaine’s desk.

“I don’t wish to talk about it right now.” Was the testy reply.

“Everything was quiet.” Beat shrugged off the standoffishness, noting the tension in the older boy. “After lunch I managed to get him down again, and apart from waking him to make sure he got some more water earlier, he’s been out like a light all afternoon.”

“He needed the sleep. Thank you for watching over him today. It’s appreciated.”

“We’re going to be roomies after the summer. It seems only right that I learn as much as I can now, so that I’m better equipped to deal with it come September.”

“You sound like Trent.” Beat shot the older boy a grin and put a bookmark in his page; wiggling off the bed and pulling on his sneakers.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

“You don’t have to go.” Wes said, catching hold of the sophomore’s arm. “I mean… He trusts you, and he obviously sees you as a safe space. What you did last night… I haven’t seen him calm down as quickly as that in a very long time. You are really good for him Beat. And if you wanna stay, there are two camp beds in here, and lots of spare bedding.” The younger boy glanced over to where Blaine was sleeping, and took a minute to think about Wes’s offer, or was it a request?

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you that things get better from here on out. Help is on it's way.


	18. Shame

Wes smiled softly at the two boys, curled together on the bed opposite, sleeping soundly. Beat had turned into a perfect little spoon, and he was tucked against Blaine’s side, his arms wrapped around the older boy’s waist. Blaine had an uncharacteristic smile on his face, and he kept rubbing his cheek against Beat’s grapefruit scented curls, sighing in contentment. They had been in the same position since five, and with it now nearing nine in the evening, Wes was hopeful that they would get through the night without incident.

“They are freaking adorable.” Trent whispered with a grin. “Look at the pair of them.” Wes _was_ looking, and he seeing for the first time in weeks; a peaceful Blaine.

“I’m hopeful tonight.” He replied softly. “Beat says he has slept most of the day, and that it has mostly been without incident. Let’s hope it continues tonight.” There was a buzz of a phone, and Blaine’s mobile lit up on his desk, indicating a text message, then another one, and then a third. After the third short buzz, it started to vibrate rapidly, and Wes dived for the device, hoping that they had avoided disturbing the two sleeping boys.

‘ _Mother_ ’

“Shit its his mom.” He cursed at Trent, looking at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“Let me.” Trent replied, holding his hands out for the still ringing phone. He nodded to Wes and stepped out into the corridor, answering the call. “This is Blaine’s phone.” He greeted politely.

“Who the hell are you?” Came the banshee screech through the handset.

“Good evening, I am Mr Nixon.” Trent replied. “Blaine is unable to get to his phone right now, can I take a message?”

“Like hell you are, put my son on the phone now!”

“I am sorry Mrs Anderson, but Blaine is currently in bed with a bad migraine. I am taking any messages for him to receive in the morning. So, unless it is an emergency, I will not be waking your son up. If it _is_ an emergency, may I suggest that you contact the school directly, so that we can be sure the proper protocols are in place?” There was a scuffle on the other end of the line and he heard Blaine’s father in the background.

“Listen here you fucking fag.” The man growled, having obviously wrestled the phone away from his wife. “I don’t care who the fuck you think you are, you put my retard of a fag son on the fucking phone right _now_.”

“I am sorry Mr Anderson, but I can’t do that.” Trent replied coldly. “I am afraid you are going to have to call the school directly. As of right now I am confiscating Blaine’s phone for the next 48 hours, for having it on his person past curfew. Please make any and all enquiries to Headmaster Montgomery.” With that Trent ended the call and turned off Blaine’s phone. If his parents wanted to play, then so be it.

* * *

The morning had gone well so far, Blaine’s migraine was dulled down to a bearable headache, and he’d slept through the entire night. He’d also so far failed to mention his missing mobile, which was currently in Trent’s back pocket, turned off. Trent had pushed the events of the previous evening to the back of his mind, but the _next_ sequence of events would go down in Dalton’s history.

“Excuse me Mr Unwin?” Charles said, poking his head around the classroom door. “May I please borrow Mr Nixon?”

“Of course, Headmaster, does he need to bring his things?”

“I’m afraid so. Please pack up your bag Mr Nixon, you will not be attending anymore classes for the rest of the day.” Trent was calm as he packed his workbooks away, standing tall amongst the confused and questioning looks of his classmates. He nodded to Wes as he approached the door, and the other senior immediately understood what was happening.

“It was my idea Headmaster.” Wes said, shooting up from his seat and glaring at his father with hard eyes. Trent shook his head, trying to urge him to back down, but he was _not_ going to sit by and watch as this happened to Trent. “I promise you Sir that Trent was just following my orders.”

“Then I suppose I better see the pair of you.” Charles replied grimly, with a nod. “Please excuse the interruption Mr Unwin.”

“Not a problem headmaster, I’ll pass their work along with their peers.” The two boys, bags both packed and determined faces in place, followed the elder Montgomery out of the classroom and down to his office.

“I must tell you both, before we go in; that you barely avoided meeting with a set of very angry parents this morning. I understand why you did what you did, but _you_ must understand that these kinds situations are unacceptable. Mr Nixon, your parents are behind this door, and Wesley, we’ll also be having a nice long chat. Just be thankful that it wasn’t Mr and Mrs Anderson waiting for you.” The two boys looked at each other and nodded. They had done what they had needed to do, and anything else would come after this. “Very well.” Charles said with a nod, pushing open the door to his office. “Please take a seat.”

“I’m sorry, but what does your son have to do with this?” Mrs Nixon asked, confusion on her face. “We thought we were here to discuss Trent.”

“And we are Ma’am.” Charles replied with a nod. “But unfortunately, it seems as though Wesley here was also involved.”

“It was my idea.” Wes said again, stubbornly remaining on his feet, rather than taking the offered chair. “I am sorry I got him in so much trouble, but we’re here solely because of me.”

“Wes, stop.” Trent responded quietly. “It’s okay. _I’m_ okay.”

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Mr Nixon asked, shooting both boys an amused look. “Please sit down Wes, and tell us exactly why we are here.” Wes sighed and finally sat, refusing to break eye contact with Mr Nixon.

“Blaine Anderson, my roommate was sent to bed with a debilitating migraine yesterday morning. He gets them sometimes because he had to have brain surgery a couple of years ago.”

“Is this Blaine as in the sweet boy who sings with you all?” Mrs Nixon asked in shock.

“Yes. I can’t tell you why he had to have the surgery, but I _can_ tell you that he suffers from migraines a lot. Yesterday’s was the worst one we’ve seen for a while, and Miss Blake, the school nurse gave him some painkillers and confined him to dorms, just after breakfast. You have to understand Mrs Nixon, that Blaine can suffer from nightmares, and he hasn’t had a half decent sleep in over three weeks.”

“Oh, that poor dear.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with us.” Mr Nixon replied.

“Blaine’s parents rang his mobile last night at around nine. Not wanting to disturb him, I asked Trent to pick up the phone, and I wrote down everything he needed to say to get rid of them.”

“Wes I’m sorry but that isn’t true, and I’m not going to let you do this.” Trent stood up from his seat, defiance written all over his face and he pulled out Blaine’s phone from his pocket and placed it on the desk. “Mrs Anderson was screeching down the phone, asking for Blaine and I told her my name was Mr Nixon, and that Blaine was unable to come to the phone because he was in bed with a headache. Mr Anderson then took the phone from his wife, called me a fag and demanded to speak to his, and I quote ‘ _retard of a fag son_ ’. I then informed him that I would be confiscating Blaine’s phone for the next 48 hours, for it being left on after curfew, something which is in my remit as a dorm prefect, and that if he had any concerns, or if it was an emergency, that he had to contact the headmaster.”

“Wait, so you _didn’t_ tell them that you were a teacher?” Charles said, confusion making way for realisation as the situation sank in.

“Not at all. I _did_ identify myself as Mr Nixon, as I do with most adults I meet, and I _am_ allowed to confiscate phones after curfew. I will admit that I didn’t _technically_ tell him that I was a student, but I thought that the fact my voice has yet to break, might have given that away.” Wes was positively beaming at his friend, and might have been just a tad _impressed_.

“Mr and Mrs Nixon, I am so very sorry for dragging you down here. Unfortunately, it seems as though something got lost in translation last night, and I trust your son here to be telling the truth.”

“Like hell we’re leaving now.” Trent’s father growled. “That animal used homophobic language towards my son, a situation which I can assure you, is unacceptable.”

“And I can assure you that it will be delt with.”

“Like hell it will, I want him in here to see what he has to say for himself, otherwise I will be contacting my cousin.”

“That will not be necessary, I assure you.”

“Blaine doesn’t sound safe.” Mrs Nixon butted in. “Has any of this been forwarded to the authorities?”

“Blaine isn’t just a minor mum.” Trent replied. “With what happened to him, he is classed as vulnerable, and the courts basically gave his parents carte blanche to do whatever they thought best to ‘ _fix_ ’ the damage done to him. He had an anxiety attack the other night because they are threatening to put him into conversion therapy over the summer. He’s in a lot of danger, and there is nothing the school can do legally, believe me, we’ve already checked.”

“That’s it, I’m calling Christopher.” Mr Nixon growled, getting up from his chair and stalking out of the room, his phone already in his hand.

“You boys seem like really good friends with Blaine.”

“We are.” Wes said instantly. “He needs a lot of emotional support Mrs Nixon, and there is a whole group of us that look out for him. He is very smart though, and is looking at skipping a year of school, and sitting the Junior tests at the end of the year, instead of the sophomore ones.”

“I didn’t realise he was so young.”

“He isn’t mum. Blaine was gaybashed at his last school and had to resit his freshman year. He’s spent the last two years battling anxiety, nightmares and not to mention the rest of the complications that come with the level of brain surgery he had. He’s here because it’s where he’s the safest.” The door opened up and Trent’s dad stuck his head through.

“Headmaster, my cousin is asking that you contact the Anderson’s immediately. He wants to know what happens when they are confronted over the abuse they threw at my son. Trent, we don’t want you here for this.”

“I’m staying.” The boy replied, jutting out his chin and crossing his arms. “I’m not going to cry over a stupid slur, I’ve heard worse. I am staying father and that is my final decision.”

“Perhaps we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Charles started.

“Stop it dad.” Wes replied angrily, cutting his father off. “We’re _not_ going to apologise for keeping Blaine from handling that call last night. Not when we’ve just spent three weeks getting him through Regionals and the upset that jealous Junior kid caused him. Three weeks of putting him back together would have been for _nothing_ if he’d taken that call. I won’t let you brush this under the carpet. What happened to family first?”

“Blaine isn’t family…”

“He’s _my_ fucking family!” Wes screamed, ignoring the cry of _‘language!_ ’ from his father. “I haven’t just spent two fucking years fixing what those bastards did to him for you to undo all of my fucking hard work!”

“Wes!” Trent snapped, breaking his friend out of his rant. “This isn’t the right way to do things.”

“Fuck the right way Trent. Fuck the system that is going to land him in fucking _conversion_ therapy before he’s even out of high school. Fuck the system that is imprisoning him with abusers. You saw the bruises just like I did, and what kind of a father calls his son a retarded fag? Fuck all of this because I am _done_ playing by the rules.”

“You better think long and hard about what comes out of your mouth next Wesley James!” His father shouted. The senior Nixons were watching the events unfold with wide eyes, Mr Nixon’s foot still in the door; meaning that a large crowd had gathered outside and were listening in on an argument that would become _legendary_.

“I have spent _months_ watching over him whilst you have buried your head so far in the fucking sand that you can see Western Australia. It was _Trent_ who saw the potential in him to go to Knowles, and it has been _Trent_ who has helped Blaine maintain a four-point five GPA, whilst still keeping his own perfect grades, working with the Warblers and getting Blaine ready to skip a year. Nick, Jeff, David Thad, hell even Beat, all of us are the reason that Blaine Anderson _didn’t_ become a fucking statistic, and you are brushing this under the carpet like it never fucking happened.” Wes was panting heavily by the time he ran out of words, but knowing that he had shocked his father enough to have the last say, he made direct eye contact with him and uttered the words, no parent wants to hear. “I am _ashamed_ to be your son right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Help is coming but nothing is ever that easy. Don't be mad the the hard-headed Montgomerys. They just have different ways of showing their concern.


	19. One More Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying the Nixons! I got really lazy and didn't name them, but since the response has been so positive, I'll see about incorporating them into the story a little more than I originally planned. Thanks for the feedback everyone, now onto the chapter!

The office would have been silent, if Wes’s heavy breaths weren’t hitching in his throat and Mrs Nixon wasn’t sniffling into her handkerchief. Charles looked as though he’d been slapped; his face white, and his eyes blown wide, and the senior Nixons didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves. Trent however was on the verge of tears as Wes’s relationship with his father crashed and burned and he watched as his friend seemed to fold in on himself, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had arrived.

“Wes?” All five of them spun around to the door, where Blaine was standing, just behind Mr Nixon; shooting worried glances back at the large group of boys behind him.

“Shit Devon, get in here.” Wes responded, pushing past Trent’s dad to grab Blaine’s hand and pull him through the door; slamming it shut to cut them off from the rest of the school. “Why are you not in class?”

“Beat told me that you were shouting, and that you and Trent were in trouble. Have I done something wrong?”

“Why would you think that?” Mrs Nixon asked, ignoring the lingering tension in the Headmaster’s shoulders, and instead focussing on the small boy who was looking at Wes with wide, fearful eyes.

“I heard my name.” He whispered, shrinking in on himself.

“D, look at me.” Trent said softly, standing to approach his friends. He took hold of Blaine’s wrist and started rubbing soothing circles on it with his thumb. “Please D?” He asked again when it was clear that Blaine was more focussed on the floor than him. Slowly, the younger boy rose his head and met Trent’s gaze, flinching slightly as he did so. “I promise you now that you are in no way in trouble. You have done _nothing_ wrong in the slightest. Something happened last night that was brought to my mum and dad’s attention, you were in no way involved.”

“Is that my phone?” He asked, spotting the objects in question on Charles’s desk.

“Yes.” Was the honest reply. “It rang at about nine last night, and I didn’t want to disturb you and Beat unless I had to, so I answered it. It was your parents.” Blaine flinched back at that, his eyes going wide. “It’s okay.” The older boy responded, quick to reassure him. “You aren’t in any trouble. I told them that it was after curfew and that you were asleep. I told them that I would be confiscating your phone for 48 hours, and that they should contact the office if it was an emergency.”

“Then why are your mum and dad here?”

“Because your parent’s thought I was a teacher, and when they phoned this morning to make a complaint about me, they hit the roof when they found out I was a student. So, mum and dad were called in to try and straighten things out.”

“But why did they think that?” Blaine asked, his eyes wide.

“Because I introduced myself as Mr Nixon like I always do, and then told them about confiscating your phone.”

“But you’re a prefect, you’re allowed to do that…”

“We know that D, but your parents didn’t. They thought I was trying to impersonate a member of staff.”

“What did they want?” Blaine asked in a small voice, his hands starting to shake. If his parents had been in contact with the school this early in the morning, then it was evident to him that there was a storm brewing.

“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far…” The implications seemed to hit the younger boy at once and a strangled noise left his throat as he threw himself at Trent, wrapping his arms around him, apologies coming fast. “It’s okay D. I understand that your parents can be difficult.” He ignored a scoff from his father at that bit, trying to keep Blaine’s attention for as long as possible. “I just didn’t want you picking up the phone to get shouted at when you were already suffering a migraine.”

“Did they call you names?”

“Nothing I can’t handle and that I haven’t heard a thousand times before.” Trent reassured him, squeezing him gently. “I promise you that I’m okay. I’m just glad it was me and not you.” Blaine eventually pulled back and looked over to Trent’s mum, who was watching them with sad eyes.

“I’m really sorry if they called him anything bad Mr and Mrs Nixon.” He said quietly. “They usually wait to get me on the phone before they start throwing the slurs around. I’m really sorry I put Trent through that.”

“Devon it wasn’t your fault.” Wes said quietly, re-joining the conversation. “You were asleep, you didn’t put him through anything.”

“I usually remember to turn my phone off. He shouldn’t have had to answer it when they’re in that state?”

“In what state D?” Trent asked. “Tell us what’s going on.”

“Later.” He replied, throwing looks towards the three adults in the room. “I promise we’ll talk but right now, I just want us all to sort out whatever it was you were shouting about earlier.”

“Blaine…” Charles started but was cut off by a shake of his son’s head.

“Same as you Dev, I want to talk about this later, so can we hold on to those thoughts for now?”

“You shouldn’t be mad at your dad.” Blaine replied, his shoulders squaring slightly as courage found him. “He does his best Wes, and it’s not just me with problems, he has the whole school to look after as well. Will you please just talk it out if Trent and I go back to classes?”

“None of you will be re-joining your classmates today Blaine.” Charles replied. “Not until this is all resolved.”

“Why don’t we go to the library and get some studying done then?” Trent asked, directing his question at both Blaine and his headmaster equally. “Mr Knowles gave me another package yesterday; we could have a look and see what we can get done whilst these two go at it for a while.”

“Okay, but I want Wes to promise me that he won’t come and find us until he has made things up with his dad.”

“Devon it doesn’t work like that…” Wes started, trailing off when he saw Blaine’s hard eyes.

“Yes, it does.” The younger boy said sternly. “Whatever it is, it can be fixed. Families are messed up, some more than others; but I won’t let you be mad at your dad on my behalf. Be mad at him for yourself but not for me. I have no reason to be upset with him, and it’s a little insulting having you fight a non-existent battle in my name. I can stand up for myself when I need to, and I trust your dad. So, come and find us only when you’ve made up, otherwise I’ll be sleeping in Trent’s dorm tonight. Please excuse us headmaster, Trent and I have a study session.” With that he grabbed the older boy’s hand and dragged him towards the door, Trent only just having time to call a quick goodbye to his parents over his shoulder.

* * *

“We will leave you to it I think.” Mrs Nixon said, getting up from her chair and shooting a meaningful look at her husband once the office door had closed behind the two boys. “Thank you for your time today Charles.”

“Please be rest assured that I will be investigating what happened last night thoroughly. I will do everything in my power to see that something like this is never repeated.”

“My advice is to find a way to get that kid out of that home.” Mr Nixon replied, holding out his hand for Charles to shake. “Christopher is already looking into what you can and can’t do legally, but in the meantime, you do everything in your power to see that he’s safe. Even if it means faking an outbreak of something and quarantining the school; _don’t_ let him go back there before the summer.”

“I will do everything I can.” Charles replied, shaking the man’s hand and ignoring the scoff from his son.

“Then we will be off.” Mrs Nixon responded. “Please don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything.” Charles nodded and watched the pair go before turning to his son with hard eyes.

“I want an explanation Wesley.” He said dangerously. “And if the one you give me is not satisfactory, I can assure you that the consequences will be dire.”

“Why, will you hit me?” Wes asked, folding his arms as he moved forwards with his plan to make his father understand. “Will you take off your belt and hit me with that, or will you prefer to use your fists? How about locking me in my dorm without food or water for three days, or sending me to therapy to try and ‘ _fix_ ’ me and my lifestyle choices? What about sending me to a camp, or threatening to force so many drugs down my throat that I won’t know what day of the week it is?”

“Wesley…” But his son cut him off again, his rant spoken rather than shouted, but by no means any less painful.

“See the thing is father, is that it’s those kinds of punishments, Blaine gets threatened with almost every time those bastards phone him. Every time; he has to listen to them as they tell him he’s not good enough to be their son, that he’s retarded or that his sexuality is a disgusting sin. They _have_ hit him in the past. He turned up after spring break covered in bruises and having lost several pounds because their idea of grounding him also includes withholding food. So, go ahead and bring on any consequences you have planned, because I promise you that they won’t be half as bad as the shit he puts up with.”

“I understand you are concerned for your friend but it does not give you the right to speak to me like that, and _certainly_ not in front of other parents.”

“It does when you are turning a blind eye to it all!” Wes’s voice had finally raised in frustration. “You asked me to look after him! You asked me to watch over him and help him adjust. I have spent two years waking up in the middle of the night to find him either throwing up in the toilet bowl or scratching his own arms until they bleed. I have spent two years helping him through anxiety attacks, panic attacks, bursts of borderline depression, migraines, and the rest of it. So, don’t tell me now that he isn’t family because he’s my _brother_ , and I will do anything to keep him safe. Including going against your wishes, because the problem you now have is that I’ve seen how bad things can really get, and you don’t have the power to scare me anymore.”

“Young man you better start showing me some respect…”

“Why? What have you actually done for him?” Wes shouted. “Apart form letting me take him out of classes what have you _actually_ done for _me_? We have been alone in dealing with this for two fucking years, and I am just about done with you burying your head in the sand. What happens when he comes back next year? Have _you_ actually given any thought as to how hard it is going to be for him? Doubly so if he comes back as a senior. You dumped that news on him and then sent him back to me to be the bad guy, because it’s _me_ who knows just how far he can be pushed, and I don’t think he’s _ready_ for that amount of stress.”

“We can’t hold him back if his grades…”

“Screw his fucking grades dad! You still don’t get it do you? What happens when he passes the board, gets put into senior year and then flunks out of high school, or pulled by his parents when the stress becomes too much and he doesn’t have anyone to hold on to? This whole situation has the potential to _destroy_ him. He can’t be dealing with the stress of exams, trying to pick up extracurriculars, heading the Warblers _and_ applying for colleges. He needs more _time_.”

“We all think we need more time Wes…” He didn’t get it. After everything he had already said, his father still didn’t get it. He was hearing without listening, building a picture in his head that was unobtainable. Wes did the only thing he could think to do in that moment. His thoughts became clear as he made a decision that would affect everyone.

“ _I_ need more time.” He stressed; trying to make it sound like a _genuine_ admittance. “I can’t do this dad. I need another year. I _can’t_ graduate.”

“Wesley.” His father sighed, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his eyes. “Your grades are fine, you have plenty on your record for colleges, you have already had an acceptance letter through for Princeton…”

“I _need_ another year.” He insisted stubbornly. “I have the right to ask for one, and I am doing so.”

“You can’t put your life on hold for him Wesley.”

“It’s not _for_ him.” He replied, trying to sound sincere. “I’m struggling _too_ dad. I can’t focus, I’ve been staying up at all hours, stressing over work. I _can’t_ keep this up until the end of the year. _Please_ just let me have another year.”

“You will be the first boy in over a decade and a half to not graduate with his class. You understand what this means, yes?” Charles asked. “Are you even _aware_ of what you’re asking me? How will it look when the headmaster’s own son fails to graduate high school with his peers?”

“Then let me take a gap year and employ me as an AA for a year. Let me be _Blaine’s_ AA. You have promised him one if he passes his exams.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of your _mother_.” Charles replied with a sigh.

“No. You can’t pull mum out of the hospital. If the Andersons find out they could sue you _and_ the school. Besides mum loves that job. You can’t just pick someone at random either, he will struggle to trust anyone else. He’s not okay with strangers dad…”

“Blaine is going to have to _learn_ to be.” Charles replied. “Do you plan on following him to whatever college he gets into? Do you plan on holding his hand for the rest of his life?”

“Until he’s out from under his parents then _yes_.” Wes stressed. “Until he’s safe, and in a new city, living on his own independently, like any other healthy person does when they move away to college. Until then, I will be there for him. No matter how long that takes. _You_ asked me to get involved father, you can’t then complain at the outcome when it affects the vision you have for me. This is something I _need_ to do. If holding his hand for the next five years is what it takes, then you better believe I’ll do it.”

“And what about your studies? Your future?”

“I can study anywhere Dad.” Wes replied, finally sinking down into the seat that Trent’s mum had vacated. “Blaine has always wanted to go to either NYU or U of M, both are really good schools, and you and I both know that I could study to become a doctor in either of them, just as well as if I went to Princeton. If that _is_ even what I want to do yet.”

“You’re in too deep.”

“And that is no one’s fault dad, but me putting space between us is _not_ going to help Devon. I can’t do that to him now, not after I’ve invested two years of high school into his wellbeing. I’m just asking for another year. Another year to get him to where _he_ needs to be, and another year to get myself to where _I_ need to be. I have barely given college a thought because of everything else that has been going on, and another year will help me decide. Whether you make me graduate with my class or keep me on to be Devon’s AA.”

“One year?” His father asked, looking at him tiredly. “That’s all?”

“You know as well as I do that I can’t promise, but yes; provided Dev passes the exams, and provided he doesn’t slip during that year, I will go to college. This is just, something I have to do first.”

“You are grounded for the next three weeks. No sneaking him out of the school during the day. If he genuinely needs time off his classes, it is to be spent up in the dorms. Unless you are going home with me at the weekends, you stay on campus at all times. No impromptu concerts with the Warblers, no going for coffee after school, you stay _here_. And when you are ready, I will both accept your apology for what you said earlier, and I will offer one of my own. But you have to be ready to _listen_ , and you have to understand why talking to me like you did is beyond unacceptable.”

“And my studies?”

“I will talk to your mother. I can’t promise you, but I have to take responsibility for the fact that I put you in this position in the first place.”

“Don’t you dare regret asking me to take care of him.” Wes growled. “It’s been my privilege, and it will continue to be so until he no longer needs me. Maybe you never intended for me to get in so deep, but don’t you _dare_ act like this was a mistake. Do you know what Devon told me last week?” Charles shook his head, deciding that keeping his mouth shut was currently his best option. “He told me that without my help, without me being here for him, he would have been dead in four months. When he got here; he was terrified of his own shadow, he barely slept, he barely ate, but through it all I was there for him; and he stressed this again at the weekend, that he wouldn’t have made it through those first few months if he’d been put in with any other guy. You should be _proud_ of me dad. I thought you would be.”

“I _am_ proud of you Wesley. I just don’t very much like the boy I saw in here today. That wasn’t my son.”

“But that’s just it dad; I _am_ your son. Didn’t you do this yourself when you were younger? With Uncle James?”

“That was different…”

“How dad? He was the brother you _chose_. He was the brother you looked after when no one else did. Blaine is the brother _I’m_ choosing dad, and I _will_ look after him.” Charles sighed and decided to end the conversation there, before tempers could flare again.

“Three weeks.” He said, deflecting but being honest with himself about doing so. “If I haven’t received an apology from you by then, I will be extending it until you’re ready. And, I’ll talk to your mother about your request.”

“Yes sir. I understand.” Wes stood up and headed for the door.

“Wesley.” Charles swallowed as his son paused, his hand already on the door handle. “I _am_ proud of you. Never forget that.” There was a small nod before he was gone; slipping back out into the crowded corridors of the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think? Is it a viable option? Will Charles say yes? Will Blaine be out of his home by the summer? You'll all just have to stay tuned!


	20. Storm

They had managed about half an hour in the library, but the silence was starting to get to him, and he had no idea how to break it. ‘ _Oh, by the way Trent, I’ll probably not be here this weekend because you answered my phone and they’re going to want retribution._ ’ Or what about; ‘ _Hey Trent, just to let you know that you might have to come get me on Sunday night because I’ll be in no fit state to drive after they beat the shit out of me._ ’ He had been too busy chewing on his pencil; his eyes glazed over and unfocussed, that when a hand fell onto his wrist, he jumped, his eyes blowing wide as he came to. Trent gave him an apologetic look, clearly not meaning to scare him.

“Are you okay?” And wasn’t _that_ a million-dollar question.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked instead. “Why did you pick it up instead of turning it off?”

“Because I didn’t want you to have to get up this morning to dozens of missed calls and violent messages. You don’t deserve that Devon.”

“You don’t get it do you?” He asked; shaking his head. “You have _no_ idea what they’re capable of. If they decide to pull me from school because of the stunt you pulled last night, there won’t be any way for me to graduate next year. I’ll probably end up at some camp, or drugged off my mind, all because you answered a phone call that wasn’t meant for you.”

“Devon…”

“My parents and my home life are _not_ to be messed with Trent. You could make everything ten times worse than it already is, and there would be no way for me to prevent any of it from happening. There would be no way for _anyone_ to prevent any of it from happening. Not your lawyer cousin, not Wes’s dad, and certainly not either of you two. You’ve put me in danger with that stunt you pulled, and it won’t be any of you that suffer the consequences.”

“I’m sorry D.” Trent whispered; his eyes suspiciously glassy. “I didn’t think.”

“That’s right, you didn’t. You both should know better than to mess with my family Nixon.” The older boy flinched at the use of his surname. It sounded cold and callous coming from Blaine, and he was starting to realise just how much he might have messed up. “I know that you both care, but there is a right way of doing things and a wrong way, and you were _both_ in the wrong with this. I heard most of what Wes shouted at his dad, and I am still pissed that he decided to fight a battle for me that I had no idea existed. What happened to you both telling me that we needed to _talk_ to each other? To be _open_ about things?”

“I’m sorry Dev…”

“Don’t.” The younger boy choked out, his head falling into his hands; his elbows on the table and his fingers burying themselves in his hair. “Just, don’t. I shouldn’t be mad at you. At _either_ of you it’s just…”

“You’re scared. Of what they will do to you because of what I _did_.” It pained him to say those words. No one should be scared of their parents. Especially someone as sweet and as caring as Blaine. He felt sick. “I can only try to imagine what you are going through Dev.” He whispered. “And I’m _so_ sorry.”

“I’m so _tired_.” The younger boy replied; echoing his words from Saturday. “I’m so tired of fighting, and of not getting anywhere. I just want it all to stop. I want to be able to get through a week without my head feeling like its going to split open, or even not being in danger of a nervous breakdown because of someone’s stupid, throwaway comment. I just want to be able to get through life without needing someone to hold my hand.”

“Oh Devon.” Trent breathed, getting up from seat on the opposite side of the table, and instead taking the one next to the younger boy. “I know that you’re tired. And I know that it feels like you aren’t getting anywhere, but I promise you that you’ve been doing so much better. We can write the past three weeks off as a bump in a very long and very hard road, and now that we’re over the worst of it, we can keep moving forwards. But you need to understand that you aren’t alone in any of this and none of us are going to stop offering you our hands, because reaching out and helping each other is exactly what is needed to get us all down this road safely. God Dev, you wrote a _song_ about it, please listen to your own advice.” There was a sigh from the smaller boy, followed by a long silence as he collected his thoughts.

“I’m tired Trent.” He finally whispered hollowly; and the senior wrapped his arms around his friend, trying to offer comfort.

“I know D. Why don’t we pack this up and get back up to the dorms? It is unlikely we’ll be attending anymore classes today, and you can get some more sleep. God knows you need it.” There was a small nod and he proceeded to pack everything away, letting Blaine have a few more minutes to collect himself.

* * *

“Wes wait up!” Was the shout over the noise; as Thad pushed his way through the lunchtime rush towards him. “What the hell happened earlier?” He asked, shouldering his way through two sophomores, finally reaching his fellow senior. “It’s all over the school that you and Trent were fighting.”

“We were _not_.” Was the exasperated reply, as Wes folded his arms across his chest. “I won’t discuss it here anyway. We need to find the others.”

“Nick and Jeff are already in lunch, and David was heading to the Warbler commons to sort something out for this afternoon’s practice.”

“We aren’t cancelling practice.” Wes replied, shaking his head. “Devon is back on his feet, and if I know him right, he’s upstairs with Trent working on arrangements. We need to find him before he goes ahead and confuses the fuck out of the situation.”

“You go and head him off, and I’ll grab Niff. We’ll meet you in the commons.”

“If you see Beat, bring him with you.” Thad gave him a vaguely confused look, but nodded anyway, heading back the way he came towards the dining hall. Wes watched him go before stalking off down the corridor in the direction of their practice room. He could feel the stares on him as he all but stormed through the school, and schooled his expression into a forced neutrality.

“Wes!” He spun around to see Beat rushing towards him; strawberry curls bouncing against his forehead, and his grey eyes blown wide in panic. “I can’t find Blaine, he rushed off earlier when I told him about the crowd outside your dad’s office and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Devon is safe, but we’re not discussing this in the middle of the school.” Wes all but growled. “You’re joining us for an emergency meeting in the practise room.”

“Should I go and round up the others?”

“Thad is already on it; you’re coming with me to head off David.” Beat nodded and followed with quick steps, trying to keep up with Wes’s long strides. Their height difference would have been comical in any other circumstances. But not then, not when one of them was full of anger and the other full of worry, scurrying after the senior in a way reminiscent of a child to their master. Wes pushed open the doors to the practice room to find it already half full, and David leading the charge on a spirited debate over that evening’s practise. The room was plunged into silence the minute the doors slammed, and all eyes were on Wes and Beat.

“Wes…”

“Everybody except Thomson leave.” Wes said coldly. “Now.” There was a scurrying as boys dived for their bags in a rush to get out of the way of their leader’s obvious fury. “Practise will go ahead as usual. Four o’clock, here, if anyone’s late it will go on record.” No one said a word in response as they all left, shooting confused and worried glances over their shoulders.

“Wes…”

“Shut up Thompson.” The boy in question snapped, cutting David off for a second time. “We’re waiting for everyone else to get here.” As if his words had magically summoned them, Thad pushed open the doors once more, leading Nick and Jeff into the practise room. They heard a shout of ‘ _Wait!_ ’ go up behind them, and Blaine crashed into the room, Trent being dragged along by the hand.

“I’ve done it.” The sophomore said excitedly, waving sheet music in front of Wes’s face. “I finally figured it out!”

“You were supposed to be studying.” Wes replied coldly, his arms crossing over his chest. Blaine’s excitement left quickly, and the younger boy curled in on himself, a sheepish look on his face.

“What the hell Montgomery?” Thad snapped as they watched Blaine visibly deflate, his eyes going flat and his head hanging in guilt. “What is your problem?”

“Nothing.” Was the too quick reply. “But the Headmaster didn’t excuse these two from classes for them to be focusing on music.” He spun around to face Trent with a glare. “You said that you were having a _study_ session.”

“It’s my fault all right?” Blaine shouted, his carefully constructed control; snapping, shocking the room into silence. “I couldn’t focus and Trent offered to take me back up to the dorms to get some rest. Inevitably I couldn’t sleep so I started composing instead. Maybe if you weren’t still so busy being angry your father for all of life’s difficulties, you would _actually_ be bothered to look at it before dismissing me out of hand. I might be struggling right now, but I am _not_ going to be a pushover in the face of your barely-existent family issues.” Wes reeled back as if slapped, and a truly terrifying smugness overtook Blaine’s face. It looked wrong on a boy who was usually so innocent and sweet and _caring_. “Yeah that’s right. After this morning I’m done giving a shit.” He snarled.

“What the hell is going on?” Nick whispered to Thad, who looked about as lost as the rest of them. He received nothing but a shrug in reply, and he grabbed hold of his boyfriend’s hand and lead Jeff over to one of the sofas.

“You stood in here three weeks ago, and told me that I was a _leader_. That I was the one going to lead us to fucking Nationals. And do you know what? For a minute I actually _believed_ you. I actually believed that you were as proud of me as you say you are. But if what I have been through has taught me anything, is that people tell you exactly what you need to hear, when they think you need to hear it. I just thought _you_ were different.”

“Devon…”

“I’m not fucking finished.” The younger boy yelled, getting into Wes’s personal space. The rest of the room was still in a shocked silence, as they watched their quiet, gentle friend snap. Blaine hardly ever raised his voice in anger and none of them had ever seen an outburst like this from him. “I’ve had just about enough of people not telling me what’s going on. You know that I fucking struggle to read social cues, but I’m not fucking _blind_. You tell me how I should be talking, opening up to you, but you won’t show me the same fucking curtesy. I’m _sick_ of it.”

“There are things you don’t need to know…”

“You don’t get to fucking decide that for me Wes! You are all involved in parts of my life, that I am becoming increasingly confused about and none of you will tell me _shit_. Well I’m done, do you understand me? I’m fucking _done_. Screw the lot of you, and screw fucking Nationals. You can do it on your own.”

“You can’t quit.” David cried, getting to his feet quickly.

“Just watch me.” He spat back nastily. “It was this fucking competition that started all of this. But I don’t care anymore, I’ll go to Lewin if I have to, but I’m _not_ coming to Nationals, and you’re _not_ going to ask me to do any of the fucking arrangements. I need to _study_.” He sneered the last word into Wes’s face before stuffing the sheet music back into his bag and stalking out of the room; Beat on his heels.

He threw open the doors to reveal almost all of the Warblers, who had quite obviously been listening in. He pushed past them all, ignoring the questions and the cries of denial, and headed straight for the staff office. Beat was keeping his distance down the corridor, trying to be respectful, but still evidently intent on following him through the school. He knocked on the door and schooled his expression as Wes’s dad opened it.

“Blaine.” The headmaster greeted in surprise. “How can we help?”

“Is Mr Lewin in there?” He asked stiffly. “I have something I need to discuss with him as a matter of urgency.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him yet.” Charles replied. “Do you want me to leave a note in his pigeonhole?” The young boy seemed to war with himself before straightening up and nodding.

“Could you please let him know that I am tendering my resignation to The Warblers, effective immediately? I have informed the council however I don’t trust them to accept it.”

“Do you wish to talk?” Charles asked with a frown.

“No, I’m fine sir, thank you for the offer. I just want to start getting prepared for next year, and I can’t do that, plus keep up with the Warblers and the boxing. I have to prioritise, and I’m afraid I’d miss the gloves too much.”

“Very well, I’ll pass your message along, but please be prepared for questions.”

“I will be sir, thank you and apologies for disturbing lunch.” He turned to head off but was called out to by the headmaster. “Sir?” He replied, turning on his heel slightly.

“I spoke to your father earlier, after our meeting. You don’t have to worry Blaine; they won’t be coming to fetch you on Friday night.” He nodded stiffly and was about to thank him, when something else crossed his mind.

“Actually sir, if you don’t mind, I would like to discuss my dormitory situation.” Charles grimaced but nodded.

“Then please come and find me after classes.”

“Will four be suitable?”

“Of course. I’ll be in my office.”

“Thank you.” Charles nodded and he set back off towards the main body of the school, Beat still at the side of him, silent but calculating. Once the younger boy realised that they were heading in the direction of their Calculus class, he felt like he had to say something.

“I thought you had the rest of the day off?”

“I’m not sitting up in the dormitory brooding all afternoon Prince.” Blaine replied testily. “I need to stay occupied.” Beat nodded but fell silent once more. He knew from experience that Blaine was lashing out due to pain and anger. It would pass, and he would still be here at the other side. He had weathered worse storms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... So that happened. It wasn't the original direction I was going in, but we're down that road now and it's gonna get interesting. I know I said last chapter not to be mad at Wes, but maybe this one you can be a little pissed off at him. I know I am! I just felt like Blaine needed to get that off his chest, and now he has; they can start to fix things. We're in the ditch now ladies, gentlemen and gentlefolk; and it's going to be a long climb back to the top.


	21. Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight wait guys, gals and folks, this chapter fought me in more ways than one, and I now realise that we effectively have four chapters covering a single day. This was never my intention, but this particular plotline spiralled a little out of control. Anyway, half a chapter more and this day will be over and done with, and I can start pushing this story forwards quite rapidly towards Nationals and summer.

The commons were silent as the six senior boys stared at the double doors in varying degrees of shock. They’d heard the rest of the group outside, and were thankful when Thad had the good sense to storm over to the doors and shoot them all a dangerous look, scattering them like flies before he pulled the doors closed and locked them.

“He didn’t mean it.” Jeff finally whispered, unable to take the silence any longer. “He _wouldn’t_.” It sounded hollow to all of their ears, and even the blond-haired boy looked as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to reassure the others.

“He just did.” David replied flatly. “And now Montgomery is going to give us a fucking explanation as to _why_.” No one missed the way Wes flinched back, and unsurprisingly there was little pity coming his way from any of them.

“Don’t” Trent choked out. “Don’t blame Wes. It’s my fault.”

“Trent…”

“No Wes.” The other boy said forcibly. “If I hadn’t have picked that phone up last night, if I hadn’t have taken that call, none of us would be in this position. We’d all still be in classes, my parents wouldn’t have been called in, you wouldn’t have fought with your dad. All of this has happened because I pulled a stupid decision last night.”

“Well however it happened, and whoever is to blame, it _has_ happened. The only thing we can do now is damage control.” Thad responded stiffly. “Stood here arguing between ourselves is not going to change anything.”

“Thad’s right.” Nick agreed. “We shouldn’t be fighting, and classes are about to start again. We revisit this later, and find an excuse to give the rest of the team tonight.”

“You say that like you don’t believe Blaine hasn’t already gone to Lewin. He will know that the council would never accept his resignation, my guess is that time for damage control is over.” Jeff whispered to incredulous looks from the rest of the boys. “Be honest with yourselves. _Would_ you ever accept his resignation, justified or not?” He asked the three council members. “No, you wouldn’t, and Blaine knows that, so my guess he will have gone straight to the top.”

“I hate to say it…” Trent whispered. “But I think Thad may be right. We’ve fucked up Wes, he isn’t going to trust us to act in what he believes to be his best interest anymore. We may have no choice to be honest. It isn’t like they didn’t hear anyway.” He gestured to the doors that Thad had closed behind the two sophomores.

“Logan is going to be fucking unbearable.” David groaned. The bell went off for the afternoon lessons and with the exception of Wes and Trent, the boys moved to go class. “We’ll be continuing this later. Don’t think this means I forgive either of you.” He said coldly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “If Blaine has shut down because of your stupidity, it has the potential to be a fucking disaster. Get your shit together before tonight, or else I’ll be gunning for the _pair_ of you.”

“Understood.” Wes replied, ducking his head and curling in on himself.

This was a fucking nightmare.

He was living, in a nightmare.

He shot a look at Trent who just looked resigned to their collective fate, and he sighed, running a hand over his eyes and flopping into one of the vacated seats on the sofa. He felt the seat next to him dip, as Trent sat next to him and he found himself leaning into the baby-faced senior. “I’m so tired Trent.” He whispered.

“We all are.” Was the soft reply. “D was telling me the exact same thing this morning. I think we’re all just tired of fighting now. I know _I_ am.”

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

“The first thing we do is sit Blaine down and have a very long and very honest talk.” Trent replied. “Now that his abuse has sort of been reported both to your dad, and my parents; it will _have_ to be investigated. It won’t matter that it is us that raised it, they will still have to look.”

“Do you have any faith in them finding anything?”

“Honestly? I think the Anderson’s are too clever for that. Not to mention that they have already raised Cooper without incident. The fact that D is classed as emotionally and mentally vulnerable will count against anything he says to a judge if he can’t provide proof.”

“This is bullshit.” Wes growled. “He’s underweight, every time he goes home, he comes back covered in bruises and he’s fucking terrified that they’re going to send him away to some fucking camp full of bigoted, homophobic nuts. I can’t watch as he goes through that Trent. We have to do _something_.”

“And we will. Uncle Chris is working on it, we’ll just have to be patient. In the meantime, I think we have larger problems at hand.”

“I’ve asked for another year.” Wes admitted with a grimace, knowing full well how this was going to go down. Trent pushed him up by his shoulders and he struggled to make eye contact for a brief second; not wanting to see the shame that the other senior, was _bound_ to be directing at him.

“Wes… you can’t do that to yourself.” The other boy whispered. “You are jeopardising your future.”

“I’m struggling Trent. I can’t focus, I’m awake more nights than I’m asleep, and I’m too busy worrying about him to concentrate on anything in class. My homework pile is a mess, and it won’t be long before my grades start to slip. I’ve asked father to either let me stay and repeat, or let me graduate to become Devon’s AA for a year as work experience.”

“Wes, you have to be honest with yourself about _why_ you are doing this.” Trent said seriously. “Because sooner or later Blaine _will_ have to move on from us.”

“Not yet.” He whispered; shaking his head. “I can’t do it. Not when he’s back-sliding so quickly. I can’t watch him go through that, knowing I won’t be here next year. And now I’ve fucked everything up, and he won’t even have the Warblers as a distraction, and chances are he won’t talk to me…”

“Wes you have to slow down.” Trent said seriously. “There is nothing saying that any of this can’t be fixed. As for an extra pair of eyes next year, I think I can help; or rather Beat can. Just give me a week before you do something rash. Please?”

“A week.”

“That’s all I’m asking. A week to get someone else into the school, a week for Uncle Chris to do his thing and a week to fix everything between the eight of us.”

“Eight?”

“Do you seriously believe that Beat _won’t_ be attached to D’s hip for the foreseeable future?” Wes let out another groan and dropped his head back against the cushion. It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

Beat was becoming increasingly worried about the older boy, who was sat next to him; bouncing his leg and tugging on his hair with his left hand, whilst his right was playing what looked like Für Elise on the desktop. He’d pause in his ‘ _playing_ ’ every so often, to doodle what looked like music notes on the edge of his book, and Beat realised that Blaine was _composing_ ; without a piano, or even proper sheet music, whilst in the middle of _calculus_ class. The realisation hit without warning and threw his concentration way off, as he wondered how in the actual fuck (yes Trent would kill him for swearing) the older boy was doing it.

“I want to play in your brain.” He whispered to his friend. “How the actual hell are you composing right now?”

“Have to keep busy.” Was the hissed reply, and the pair of them ducked their heads as Mr Unwin sent them a glare. Instead Beat took to writing notes and sliding them across the desk; into Blaine’s vision.

_Are you ok?_

He received a glare for that one and he cringed back, it was a stupid question. Of _course,_ Blaine wasn’t okay. Who would be after the morning he’d had? By the sounds of things, he’d been through the mill before he’d even _got_ to the Warbler commons, and the request to see Wes’s dad about accommodation was worrying Beat no end. He snatched the paper out and scribbled another note.

_Are you moving out of your dorm?_

**I can’t trust myself around Wes right now. You don’t mind, right?**

_What do you mean?_

**I was hoping to move in with you into a new dorm all together, something far away where we don’t have to listen to Niff going at it every night.**

_You want me to move in with you?_

**Is there something wrong with that?**

Beat looked up in panic at Blaine’s calculating and guarded eyes. It was like the older boy was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for him to turn around and say that it had all been a ruse. He snatched up the paper and scribbled furiously, shoving it back into Blaine’s chest with a scowl, just to make his point clear.

_You have no idea what it means to me for you to ask. I just want you to be comfortable, and you don’t know me that well. I don’t want you to get scared because you’re in an unfamiliar environment. I want to keep you safe._

A dark look briefly passed over his friend’s face, and he considered that using that particular phrasing in the last sentence probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. He snatched the paper back off of him and scribbled something else.

_I won’t keep secrets from you Devon. I’ve seen first hand just where that can lead this morning. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable sharing with me._

Blaine’s expression was now somewhat akin to confusion and Beat reckoned that was a small victory at least. It looked like he’d escaped a bullet with that one. He watched Blaine scribble something down and the older boy sent him an apologetic look.

**Sorry for being so defensive. I’ll work on that.**

Beat smiled and nodded. ‘ _Don’t worry_ ’; he mouthed, receiving a small smile in return, and some of the tension bleeding out of Blaine’s shoulders. They both turned back to the lesson in hand, having killed a few minutes of Unwin’s endless monologue.

* * *

“I must confess that I didn’t expect to see either of you again today.” Charles said, in lieu of a proper greeting as he let the two boys into his office. “Don’t you have practise?”

“Not until four.” Wes replied stiffly. “We have things we need to discuss before then.”

“You are referring to Blaine’s resignation from the Warblers no doubt.”

“How do you know that?” Trent asked, a sick feeling rising in his stomach.

“Because Blaine tendered his resignation to _me_. In fairness he asked me to pass it along to Mr Lewin; which I have done, however I don’t see why it should have had to be necessary for me to do so in the first place. I know that the staff try and stay as impartial as we can, when it comes to the matters of the council; but if a boy wants to quit for one reason or another, they have every right to, and the council should respect that.”

“We know that father.” Wes replied. “And Blaine didn’t actually give us time to formulate a response before he stormed off.”

“You may have bigger issues still Wesley. As Blaine has asked me to discuss his living arrangements with him.” The two boys visibly blanched at that; the thought of their young friend moving out of the dorm to be left vulnerable and alone with his thoughts and nightmares. “If he comes to me with a suitable solution already in hand, I will have no choice to at least consider it.”

“You can’t do that!” Wes shouted; his chair flying backwards as he shot to his feet. “Devon is _my_ roommate! It has been that way since he joined Dalton, and I’m sure as hell not going to give up on him now. When is he meeting you?”

“At four, after classes.”

“That’s Warbler practice.”

“Partly the reason I think he asked for that time.” Charles replied; shooting Trent a look. “Your friend isn’t stupid; if he has no intention of returning to the Warblers, there should be no reason for him to be at tonight’s meeting.”

“Father, _please_.” Wes begged. “I’m sorry for what I said to you this morning. I’m sorry for getting angry, and for telling you I’m ashamed, because I’m _not_. I know that you have done your best for all of us, and that it is the district laws that have prevented you from doing more. I know that you have been trying to do your best for _Blaine_. I’m just scared okay? I’m scared that he’s going to be subjected to hate, and abuse over the summer. I’m scared that he won’t make it through next year, and I can’t watch…” Wes finally broke down; exhausted into Trent’s waiting arms, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the office as the boy tried to reign in his emotions. “I’m so fucking _tired_.” He whispered.

“I know.” Was Trent’s soft reply. “I know Wes. But I promise you that we’re going to make this okay. You just have to trust us now. Trust your dad, trust my parents, trust my uncle, trust _me_.”

“You have both taken on a massive amount with Blaine.” Charles said, wiping his own eyes. “And I’m am truly sorry that it has been left to the pair of you to help him through the worst of it. Because you are _right_ Wesley. As headmaster, and as your father I should be doing more to help. But the situation with Andersons is delicate to say the least, and it is a balancing act between getting Blaine the help he needs, and not risking his parents pulling him from the school.”

“Mr Montgomery, as I’m sure Wes told you earlier; we don’t regret taking on Blaine. Yes, it’s hard work, and yes; we are tired, but that _doesn’t_ mean we regret it. As far as we’re concerned, he’s our brother and family stick together no matter what. We haven’t been alone in this, and yes, both of us could have easily delegated some matters onto the others, but we _didn’t_ ; because Blaine is a joy to look after most of the time. He just gets confused as to what his emotions mean.”

“It doesn’t stop _me_ from being regretful that you haven’t had more help.” Charles replied. “Wesley, if you want another year, it is yours. Whether that is through work experience or through repeating your senior year; you do what you think is best. I am your father, and I always will be; but there comes a time when a father needs to realise that his son is no longer a boy. You take all the time you need to get yourself where you need to be. Leave the accommodation up to me. We’ll make this work boys. I have already passed everything I have on the Andersons and on Blaine’s medical condition to your parents Trent.”

“Isn’t that a breach of confidentiality?” Trent asked.

“Not in this case. Your mother expressed a great interest in becoming Blaine’s therapist, and the rest of the information went to your family lawyer, who is in the beginning of building a case against his parents. This is in my remit, and perfectly allowed if there have been reports of abuse.” Wes let out a sob and pulled away from Trent to throw his arms around his father; whispering apologies.

He might no longer be a boy, but sometimes a son just needed a hug.

* * *

It was much later that afternoon that a second knock sounded on his door, and he checked the clock on his desk; before getting up from his chair and opening the door.

“Please sit down Blaine, Mr Windsor.” Charles said with a smile, beckoning the boys through the door. Wes and Trent had only left half an hour ago; having sat and talked about everything Blaine related for the best part of the afternoon. It was only when the boys started to reveal the full scope of the after-effects of Blaine’s surgery, that Charles had realised how out of their depth they were, and he was frankly amazed that any of them managed to function on a day to day basis. They had done an amazing job, but he was more convinced than ever that this young boy needed professional help; and their conversation had lit a fire inside of him to see that Blaine got it.

“We would like your permission to move dorms.” Blaine said quietly; sitting down and cutting right to the chase. “It isn’t working between Wes and I right now, and Beat had already agreed to become my roommate for next year, this would give us both time to acclimatise before the summer.”

“I see.” Charles replied, sitting down heavily in his chair and steepling his fingers. “I must say that this wasn’t how I expected this conversation to go Blaine, and I have to admit that it isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever heard. I do not want you in a dorm on your own, for obvious reasons, and if you truly think that you can no longer room with Wesley, then I will of course grant your wish.” Blaine’s face lit up at that, and he was loath to pop that happy bubble. “However,” Visible deflation this time, and he had to push through the feelings it stirred within his chest. “I _would_ like you to give it another week. That is all I ask. One week, to ensure that this is truly what you want. If the situation is still untenable, by then, I will sign off on it, no questions asked.”

“Thank you, sir.” Was the reluctant and rather subdued reply.

“That wasn’t what you wanted to hear was it?” He asked.

“Not really sir if I’m honest. Wes and I have had two big fights in the space of a week, and I’m scared that we’re going to end up hating one another. I’m angry that he’s been keeping secrets, and I have started to feel rather suffocated at times. I know that I still struggle with things, but I am _not_ stupid, and sometimes I just need a bit of breathing space. Besides, his desk is becoming progressively messier, the more time off I have, and I know that he hasn’t been sleeping well.”

“With me only going into Junior year next year, I have more time on my hands.” Beat added with a nod. “I can be here for Devon when he needs me, and _still_ keep on top of my work. I have picked up a lot of my studying habits from Trent over the last couple of years. We can do this sir.”

“Of that I have no doubts Mr Windsor.” Charles replied with a small smile at the young boy’s determination. “But I would still like to see if this situation can be rectified before I sign off on this. Instead of a week then, why don’t we see about the weekend instead? It’s Wednesday today, that gives us all two days for tempers to cool slightly, and more rational heads to take over. Deal?” Blaine nodded, a little happier, but still visibly disappointed.

Charles however, was _very_ happy with the outcome. He had expected the boy to ask for a room on his own, and he had been dreading turning him down all afternoon. He now knew that Beat’s involvement in the situation was new, but he had promised himself that he would fight to get Blaine the help he needed, and thus was convinced that the younger of the two sophomores wouldn’t end up in the same situation as his son and Trent.

“Okay then. I just have one more question for you Blaine and then you can go.” Blaine tensed up, and looked about ready to bolt for the door, and Charles cursed himself for his own bluntness. “Relax son, you’re not in trouble. Call it curiosity more than anything.”

“What do you wish to know sir?”

“Well, I was hoping that we could look at arranging your schedule to fit Warbler practises back in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have Wes mad at his dad for long, and Trent trying to take the fall for this whole mess woke something up inside of him. I have questions I would like to ask you all, but I don't want to give any of the plot away. Just... I wonder how Beat can help with an extra pair of eyes?


	22. Purge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that half a chapter turned into a full one. Sorry guys, I guess this really did run away with me.

“Order!” David screamed as Nick banged the gavel on the desk, _hard_. The room was in uproar; everyone shouting over themselves and unsure as to who exactly to direct their anger at. The favourite two candidates were Wes, and Blaine; the sophomore not being there to defend himself; _especially_ against Logan.

“I tried to tell you all last night; he can’t be fucking trusted!” The tall blond-haired boy shouted. “I _told_ you that he was leading other members astray, and now our drum kit is MIA and Anderson has fucking up and left us!”

“You’re full of crap Wright!” That was Evan. “This is all Montgomery’s fault! He was _horrible_ to Blaine earlier; I would have left if I’d been treated that way!” Wes was watching the scene unfold with tired, vacant eyes. He’d given up on trying to calm the rest of the Warblers down, and instead had merely passed the gavel off to Nick as he let them all vent their anger; mostly at himself.

“You have no fucking clue what you are talking about!” Trent jumped in. “Any of you. All you have heard are snippets of a larger story and painted either Wes or Blaine as the villains. I’m fucking sick of this!” All but his last sentence went unheard; but he’d grown louder as his anger built and he found himself on his feet; climbing up onto the council’s table; much to the protests of the council themselves. “Maybe Blaine had the right fucking idea!” He growled; the room having finally fallen quiet enough for him to be heard. “This isn’t the group I joined. This isn’t the _brotherhood_ it claims to be. How _dare_ any of you start throwing the fucking blame around when no one in this room is entirely innocent?”

“Fuck off Nixon, we’re not the ones who chased him out of here.” Logan spat.

“No, you’re just the ones who fucking rely on him to work out the arrangements, organise auditions and help with the setlist when none of you can be fucking bothered to get off your arses and _do_ something. Blaine works far harder at this than any of you, and _this_ is the fucking thanks he gets? I’m just glad he isn’t here to witness his own brothers turning against him.”

“And what does Montgomery have to say for himself?” Evan called out again. The boy in question tapped Trent’s ankle and he stepped to one side in order to make room for Wes to also get up onto the table top.

“I have no excuse for earlier.” Wes began. “So, I will not waste any of your time with empty appeasements. I have yet to see Blaine to apologise, something I _will_ do at my earliest convenience. Until then I take full responsibility for what happened, and will happily hand the gavel off to someone if that is what you all require.” There were shocked murmurs throughout the room and Nick and David were staring up at him with wide eyes. “I will _not_ however, sit here and listen to Blaine’s character being dragged through the mud. So, if anyone wishes to usurp me, they can do so knowing that I will not step foot back in this room again. Then the rest of you can see how much fucking hard work goes into the arrangements and choreography.”

“That will be unnecessary.” Came a voice at the door, and Wes’s face drained of colour, whilst the rest of the boys spun around to see two familiar figures.

“How much of that did you hear?” Trent asked faintly.

“Enough.” Was Blaine’s reply as he shot a dark look at Logan. “Enough to know that we aren’t going to win Nationals, and can kiss sectionals away next year as well.”

“What the fuck would _you_ know Anderson?” Logan spat. “You’re never fucking here.”

“I’m here now.” Blaine replied calmly in the face of the blond boy’s anger. “I’m here now and I can see _everything_.” He made his way to the front of the room; Beat following behind with wide eyes, and he gestured to the two seniors to get down off the table top. As soon as they had, he climbed up himself and stood with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. “There is so much passion in this room.” He said offhandedly; more than anything else. “Listen to yourselves, all of you. We should be using this passion in our craft, _not_ in ripping each other to shreds verbally. Yes, Wes and I had a disagreement earlier. No, I shouldn’t have let my anger rule my head when I said I was quitting. Yes, I should turn up to more practices, and I will, to the best of my ability, come to as many as I can. I have to inform you all though that at the end of the year, I will be sitting the Junior exams, meaning that next year will potentially be my senior year.”

“What the fuck?” Nick whispered to David, who just shrugged; as much in the dark as he was.

“I will not be continuing with the Warblers unless some changes are made right here, right now.”

“You are in no position to demand _anything_.” Logan snapped.

“Oh really?” Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow. “Try me Wright. I’m getting sick of the attitudes and the toxic atmosphere in this room. Trent called us a brotherhood, and that’s what we used to be. Since when do we stab each other in the back, or bully people into resigning their position?” With this last one he turned to Wes slightly, giving his roommate a slight nod. It wasn’t by any means forgiveness, but he would still back his friend to the hilt in the face of a prick like Logan Wright. “I love it in here. This is honestly the best part of my week. Just getting to hang out and make music. How many of us are here because we think of it as a refuge from the outside world?” There were a few nods at this, and he started to feel emboldened in a way he never had.

“Blaine…” Wes started in warning, a cold feeling of dread overtaking him at where this conversation could lead, but he was waved off by the younger boy who had evidently been emboldened by something in the last few hours.

“You all have a right to know what happened.” He said, turning to face the group. “And I know that some of you have picked up on bits and pieces. I know that there are rumours about me and it is my intention here today to dispel some of the misinformation.”

“Blaine you don’t have to do this.” Beat whispered from where he’d sat at the side of Trent.

“Yes Beat, I do.” Was the determined reply. “You all have a right to know, and maybe this is something I should have done a long time ago.” He took a breath and pushed down some of the memories that had started to rise to the surface. He was determined to do this right, and that meant _not_ having a breakdown in the middle of it. “I came to Dalton under bad circumstances. For those who might remember me from those early days, I was not in good shape. The truth is that a friend and I were gay-bashed outside a Sadie Hawkins dance at Westerville High. I suffered multiple stab wounds, a broken leg and severe head trauma.”

“Blaine…”

“Shut up Wes.” The younger boy snapped, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I was in a coma for _months_ , and when I woke up, I was told that I had missed practically my whole freshman year of high school. It took me another two months before I was fit enough to return so I came here; to repeat my freshman year, and so that I was safe from the type of bullying that goes on in other schools.” He swallowed heavily and tried to decide how much to tell the group, finally deciding on everything. “I had to have a kind of brain surgery called a craniotomy, which basically means they had to remove a section of my skull to be able to see the full extent of the damage. The problem they had was that I had suffered other skull fractures, so they basically had to piece it back together like a jigsaw.” The room had gone deadly silent after Blaine had uttered the words gay-bashed, and horrified faces were now looking up at him. “It’s why I have so much time off. I get overwhelmed, I get bad migraines, I have problems with anxiety… It’s why I don’t laugh at a lot of your jokes. I find it difficult to read social cues and I can be temperamental at times. The doctors told my parents that I had developed traits commonly found in autism patients.”

“Anderson…” Logan whispered; his face white and his grey eyes wide.

“I get that you guys get frustrated with me. I get that I can be over the top and completely oblivious to a lot of things. It’s not out of ignorance though, and I am _trying_ to be better. Usually if I’ve done something to piss any of you off, it’s pointed out to me later by either David or Thad, seeing as none of you tend to complain to Wes about me.” He let out a bitter smile at that. “I’m really sorry if I’ve let you all down, and I know that you’re angry for the shit I’ve been pulling in these last few weeks. Especially with the whole fiasco with the Gap thing, and with Kurt. I thought I was doing better, but I now realise that I was just finding other, more unhealthy ways to cope, and I hurt a lot of people in the process.” Here he looked towards Wes again, then to Trent; both of whom looked exhausted.

“My sister is autistic.” Evan said with a small shrug; standing up and nodding at Blaine in understanding. “I guess I know what to look out for, and always assumed that it was the case with you. I came here because things at home aren’t good. My sister, she tries, and my parents try, but I tend to just get in the way a lot. Music has always been a bit of an outlet for me, and this is where I feel good. But you’re right, it’s turned toxic over the last couple of weeks, and you _definitely_ aren’t to blame for that. I knew the signs and should have spoken up. I’m sorry Anderson.”

“No need Lindley.” Blaine replied with a smile. “I’m sorry I never told you guys any of this. I probably should have done, but it’s not easy for me to talk about.”

“We get it Anderson.” Ethan Pike butted in from the back of a group of sophomores. “We all have stories; some are better than others but there’s always _something_. I think I can say for a lot of us here that we’re really sorry for how we’ve been behaving. Not just to you, but to each other as well. We shouldn’t be fighting amongst ourselves. We do our best work when we do it _together_.”

“I told you that you were a leader.” Wes whispered up to Blaine; who responded with a hesitant smile.

“Anderson…” Logan stepped forwards, looking up at the sophomore who was still stood on the desk. “I’m really sorry man. For all of the trouble I’ve been stirring up. I guess, I get a little intimidated around you, and I completely misread you as a person.” Blaine hopped off the desk so that he was level (okay so he was a foot shorter, so what?) with the Junior and he held out his hand.

“Truce?” He asked, his head tilting to one side in question. Logan seemed a little hesitant but reached out anyway and took his hand.

“Truce.” Was the reply.

* * *

“We need to talk.” Blaine said as he came out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with his towel. The meeting had wrapped up pretty quickly that evening, all of the boys having too much to think about to really be productive.

“Yes, I think we do.” Was the reply as Wes shut his laptop and moved from his desk to his bed; sitting cross legged; looking up at Blaine with dark brown eyes.

“Let me go first.” Was the quick reply from the younger boy, when he saw Wes ready himself for a rant, and he sat himself on the edge of his own bed; wrapping the towel around his shoulders. “I’m really sorry for the things I said earlier. These last few weeks… They’ve been catching up on me, and I guess I’ve been supressing lots of stuff in order to just get through the day. I know it’s not healthy, and I know that we’ve spoken about this before, but I’m scared to admit that I am backsliding faster than I’ve ever done before. I’m _terrified_ Wes. I’m scared that I’m going to go back to being that broken, incomplete nutjob I was when I first came here. I’m scared that I’m going to lash out in one of my nightmares and _hurt_ you. I’m scared that I’m not going to be strong enough to get through next year, and then I start to think about asking to just sit the sophomore tests, and then those thoughts lead to more thoughts about me being a coward for not even giving it a go and it just ends up as a vicious cycle going around in my head.”

“Devon…”

“Let me finish. Please.” Wes nodded and Blaine took another deep breath. “I know that you’re not sleeping well. I know that you are worried about me. I know that despite it being clear now, you have two huge piles of unfinished homework in the bottom drawer of your desk. I’m scared about the fact we’ve had two really big arguments in the space of a week, and when I got physical with you last Friday, I scared myself so much, because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Blaine, you had every right to lose it with me last Friday.” Wes said softly. “I was being a total dick to you, and I can’t apologise enough for what I said.” Blaine waved him off with a shake of the head.

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I shouldn’t have choked you out like that. Afterwards, I was so scared that I was going to hurt you. I still am. That’s why I’ve put a request in to your father to move in with Beat, in one of the empty rooms downstairs. We’re going to be rooming together after the summer anyway, and it will give you more breathing space up here to actually focus on your stuff for next year.”

“Devon…” Wes said softly, reaching out from his bed to take one of the younger boy’s hands. “Dev, I’m not going _anywhere_ next year.” Blaine looked up at him in shock, his eyes going wide.

“What?”

“I’ve asked my dad to let me stay here for another year. Whether that is to repeat my senior year, or to gain some work experience for extra credit, as part of a gap year. I’m not going _anywhere_.”

“Work experience?”

“As an AA.” Wes watched as the pieces clicked and Blaine’s eyes, if at all possible, got even bigger.

“No, no, no.” He muttered; shaking his head; horrified. “No, you have to go.”

“Why?” Wes asked, confused and slightly hurt at the obvious rejection.

“Because you’re going to fucking _Princeton_ Wes!” Blaine shrieked. “You’re going to graduate this year; _with_ honours, and you’re going to go to Princeton and have a life. You are _not_ going to stay here to hold my fucking hand for the next year. I won’t let you do it.”

“Blaine…”

“No, I won’t hear it.” The younger boy shouted; shaking his head violently, and bringing his hands up to knot into his curls; resisting Wes’s attempts to bring them out of his hair. “NO!” He yelled suddenly; backing himself into the wall separating them from Nick and Jeff with a thump. He heard curses from next door and tried to block them out as he struggled to find his words. “No, I’m not a fucking retard who needs their hand holding.” He shouted; sliding himself across the wall to press himself into the corner; defensively. “I won’t let you throw your life away over me.”

“Devon…” Wes said desperately; trying to reach out to his roommate who flinched away every time he got close.

“No, no, no… Not a retard, don’t need my hand holding… Not a retard, Princeton…” Nick was pretty sure that Blaine had no idea he and Jeff were even in the room; but what he was witnessing was horrifying. The younger boy was having a full-on meltdown and he could see how tightly Blaine was pulling his own hair. His cheeks were wet and his eyes were blown wide; pupils large and dark.

“Go and get Trent.” He whispered to his boyfriend who nodded and promptly took off. Nick then turned his focus to Wes, who was watching; appalled at what he had triggered. “Wes.” He said quietly but firmly. “Wes you need to sit down.”

“Blaine…”

“There’s nothing you can do for him right now.” Nick said sadly; watching the young boy start to rock. “Not when he’s somewhere else and you’re in shock. Take some deep breaths for me and tell me what happened.”

“I asked my dad for another year… I thought it would help…”

“Another year?” Nick asked in confusion.

“Repeating my Senior year, or becoming Blaine’s AA…”

“Not a retard, don’t need my hand holding…” Was the muttering still coming from the small body that was curled painfully into the corner.

“Okay. Sit here and don’t move.” He ordered. “Sing something for me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going into shock and I want you to stay conscious.” Was the short reply. Wes seemed to curl in on himself before a very shaky rendition of 100 glass bottles, sitting on the wall; filtered through the room. Nick took a breath and nodded, turning his attention to Blaine, now that Wes was sorted.

Where the hell was Jeff?

“Blaine?” He called out; grimacing when the younger boy moaned and flinched away from his voice. He mentally cursed himself and took another deep breath.

Come on focus Duval!

“Devon?” He tried again, using Wes’s name for their friend. “Devon can you hear me?” He asked; getting on his knees and putting his hands on the bed; outstretched towards Blaine, but on full display. “Devon if you can hear me; I just want you to nod, can you do that?” It might have been his imagination, but there was a slight movement that he decided to take as a nod.

“Not a retard.” Was the small whimper in return.

“We know you’re not Devon.” He replied softly. “We don’t think of you like that. You’re safe here, among friends.”

“Princeton.”

“Yes, Wes is going to Princeton.”

“Not a retard.” Nick’s eyes started to sting as he realised, he had nothing to help Blaine in that moment. He knew that Wes had a secret, emergency stash of smelling oils, but he had no idea where it was. He cursed himself again, he’d promised to do better and here he was _failing_.

Where the fuck was Jeff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic has gone a little off piste; but I honestly think that Blaine will feel better about this whole situation once he has calmed down. Please let me know what you guys think, I love to hear from you, always.


	23. Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't have a lot to say for this chapter to be honest with you all. It was a tricky one to write, but it's done now and I can really push everything forwards off of the back of it.

“Trent, you have to come quick!” Jeff shouted as he crashed into the room. “Oh my God!” He screamed as he caught an eyeful of a seriously flushed and completely butt naked Beat, and he turned around; slapping his hand over his eyes.

“What the fuck Sterling?” Beat shrieked as he pulled on a pair of soft pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. “Do you just walk into random fucking dorms to cop an eyeful?”

“No!” Jeff squeaked back. “Blaine’s having a meltdown. It’s an emergency. I came looking for Trent.”

“Well next time fucking knock!” Beat growled as he stormed past the blond (now fully dressed of course); and towards Wes and Blaine’s room. “Go and find Trent. He was heading to the library. Let me deal with this for now.” There was so much authority in the tiny boy’s voice that Jeff nodded and shot off; thoroughly confused about the relationship between Blaine and their resident drum kit.

Beat pushed open the door gently and put his finger up to his mouth; shaking his head at Nick, who had looked up the moment he’d walked in. He slowly made his way over to the bed and knelt down at the side of the senior.

“Where’s Trent?”

“Library. Jeff’s gone to find him.” Beat replied in a whisper. “What happened?”

“Wes accidently triggered something. But I don’t know what.” Beat swallowed down a scathing remark at that. After everything they’d been through that day, and now this? He climbed onto the bed; despite Nick’s whispered protests, and he crawled slowly to the body that was still pressed into the corner.

“Devon?” He said softly; not wanting to scare him. “Devon it’s Beat. Can you let me in?” There was a shake of the head in the negative and he swallowed heavily. “Why can’t you let me in Devon? I’m safe with you.”

“Not a retard.” Was the mumble back.

“That’s right Devon, you’re _not_. Remember? I asked you if I could play in your brain because you are so clever.” Beat replied; hoping to trigger a short-term memory. “You were composing during calculus and it proved to me that you are one of the smartest people in this place. Now can you let me in? I’m safe with you, and I’m getting cold.” There was a hesitation; a pause in the rocking and the shaking and Beat continued on his journey across the bed, finally reaching Blaine and snuggling up to him; allowing the older boy to wrap his arms around him tightly. “I’m safe with you Dev.” He whispered. “Always safe with you.”

“20 glass bottles sitting on the wall.” Wes continued to sing; providing a backdrop for Blaine’s ragged breaths; and Beat could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. Nick was halfway between looking frantic and completely lost, Blaine was slowly fighting his way out of whatever memory was playing in his head; and Wes was still singing nursery rhymes, sat on the edge of his bed; swinging his legs.

“How did you do that?” Nick asked in a shocked whisper.

“Practise.” Was the equally as quiet whisper. “Now shut him up so I can work.” Nick nodded and went back over to Wes, who was now in the final ten. He checked his pulse and was glad to see that it was just about normal, and Wes _definitely_ had more colour now than he did have when they’d first arrived.

“You can stop singing now Wes.” He said softly. “You’re all right. I’m just going to get you a glass of water.” Wes nodded, looking completely withdrawn and exhausted and Nick sighed, rubbing his friend’s shoulder as he stood up. He glanced over to Beat and Blaine; who were still curled up in the corner; only now Beat was talking quietly, and coaxing quiet responses out of the other boy. He was just on his way back out of the bathroom when the door was opened to admit a panic-stricken Trent; Jeff trailing after him; out of breath from the run. He nodded towards the bed where Beat was still curled up against Blaine, and turned his focus back onto Wes.

“Is he okay?” His friend asked, taking the glass of water.

“He will be. Beat is with him and Trent has just got here. Why don’t Jeff and I take you next door and let these three sort themselves out?” There was a slight hesitation, but he eventually received a nod, and took hold of Wes’s hand, passing him off to Jeff who lead him out of the dorm. “We’re taking Wes next door. If you need us, that’s where we’ll be.”

“What triggered it?” Trent asked, watching Beat coax Blaine back to reality.

“Something about Wes staying an extra year instead of graduating.” Jeff whispered. “I don’t really understand. There’s a lot going off between you guys at the moment.”

“We will talk soon.” Trent replied, reaching up to squeeze his hand. “I promise we will fill you guys in on everything. It’s just all moved a bit fast this week.” Nick nodded, but didn’t really agree; this week felt like it was never going to end, and as he made his way next door, he realised that he shouldn’t really have expected anything else.

* * *

It had taken them best part of two hours, but finally Blaine was asleep; curled around Beat, his eyebrows creased into a frown; but his mind and body too exhausted to have fought the inevitable. Trent could hear soft voices from outside the door and he looked up as Wes entered the dorm; Nick and Jeff trailing after him.

“Is he okay?”

“I hope so.” Trent replied in a whisper. “What the hell happened?”

“I triggered a memory.” There was a grimace on Wes’s face, which told the other seniors that he knew exactly which memory, and how. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” He growled at himself, sinking down onto his bed; his head in his hands. “I told him about staying next year, about either repeating or staying on as his AA. I think at first, he was seeing his parents telling him that _he’d_ have to repeat a year, after that… I can’t be sure.”

“But you have your suspicions.” Nick stated rather than asked, and Wes nodded anyway.

“Going over everything with the guys earlier can’t have helped.” Jeff whispered. “Chances are, he was already on the edge.”

“That was my suspicion too. I just can’t believe I was so stupid to thoughtlessly blunder in to this.”

“You’re exhausted Wes.” Trent said softly, putting his hand on his friend’s arm. “We both are, and maybe it _is_ time we start to hand some things over to the guys.”

“We’re here whenever you need us.” Nick confirmed with a nod. “After everything that has happened in the last couple of days, we can all see the cracks. You should let us take over for a while.”

“He wants to move in with Beat.” Trent’s heart clenched for his fellow senior, knowing that sharing with Blaine had become an integral part of Wes’s high school career, and that Blaine’s rejection now; had to hurt. “He says he’s scared he’s going to lash out in his dreams, or get physical with me again like last Friday. He knows how badly I’m sleeping and that I’m falling behind on work. He says he wants to keep me safe, and give me space; but I can’t help but feel that it is _him_ who doesn’t feel safe here.”

“You can’t think like that Wes.” Trent said sternly. “We’ve talked about this before. Blaine’s head works in so many different ways, that we can’t be sure that it’s a conscious decision. What I _can_ be sure of though, is that the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.” The boy dropped backwards onto his bed and heaved out a sigh.

“Its not me I’m worried about.” He whispered. Trent looked up to Nick and Jeff and nodded to them; mouthing a thank you. The boys gave him a smile in return, and knowing that they were no longer needed, they went back to their own dorm. Wes was already in lounge clothes, so all Trent had to do was coax him onto the bed fully and pull the sheets over him.

“Sleep Wes.” He said softly. “Let me watch over them tonight.” Wes looked like he wanted to protest, but he could barely keep his eyes open, so he conceded and was asleep in minutes.

The camp bed took no time at all to put up, and that way; he could keep an eye on all of them. Nick was right, there _were_ cracks. Wes had it worse than he did of course, but the last few days had been draining on the both of them, and not for the first time that day, he cursed himself for picking up the phone call last night, instead of just turning Blaine's mobile off. Within ten minutes of having settled Wes, he was curled up in between both beds, slipping into an exhausted, but fitful sleep.

Tomorrow was going to fucking _suck_.

* * *

Blaine _did_ end up waking in the night; slightly groggy and somewhat confused as to why. He remembered sitting and talking to Wes, earlier that evening, but after that; nothing. He also hadn’t had a nightmare, which was why he was confused about waking up; but a soft sound next to him soon answered the question.

Beat was curled into a tight ball, facing away from him; shivering from something other than cold, and small sniffles, and hitched sobs were telling him that the younger boy had been the one to suffer a bad dream.

“Prince?” He whispered softly, the boy’s breath hitching slightly as he sat up and put his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it slightly in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. “Prince what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Beat half whispered, half sobbed.

“Never mind that, just tell me what happened.”

“It was you.” Was the shaky reply. “I didn’t get to you in time.”

“I don’t understand.” Beat turned over; his huge grey eyes glassy and red rimmed from the tears. Blaine sighed and laid back down; wrapping his arms around the small boy and letting him knot his fist into the front of his t-shirt. “I’m here.” He whispered; rubbing Beat’s back. “It’s okay Prince, I’m here.” Trent stirred on the camp bed on the floor, and soon the older boy was climbing in at the other side of Beat; Blaine pressing back against the wall so that they could all fit onto the bed.

“It’s okay Edward.” Trent said softly. “We’ve got you. We’re all safe and we have you now. Try and go back to sleep.” It took a few minutes for Beat to calm fully; but his grip on Blaine’s front eventually went slack, and his breathing evened out. “You too D.” Trent whispered once he was sure that Beat was back asleep. “Close your eyes and try to get some more rest.” Blaine nodded; his mind full of questions but in the end succumbing to the same exhaustion he’d felt earlier. Trent sighed and buried his head into a mixture of black and strawberry curls; the two sophomores’ heads mashed together in an unconscious need for comfort from one another.

It was almost an hour later, when all three of them had finally settled; that Wes woke with a start; his breathing shallow, and adrenaline flooding his system. He sat up and looked over to his roommate’s bed, to see Trent’s back facing him, hiding Blaine and Beat; who were no doubt curled up together. He rubbed his eyes and felt the tension drain from his body, as soon as he knew that they were all safe.

He was a mess.

He made a quick, and rather rash decision and pulled on his dressing gown, scribbling a short note for the others to find when they woke up. He slipped out of their door and down the corridor; towards David and Thad’s room. He would have gone next door, but didn’t want to risk walking on Niff in a compromising position, so David’s it was. He didn’t bother knocking; knowing that he would end up waking Thad, whilst David slept through it, and instead crept in to the room silently. A short shake of David’s shoulder woke the boy up, and he took one look at Wes’s stricken face before sighing and moving over to make room for his friend.

“Are you okay?” He asked once Wes had settled.

“I don’t know.” He whispered in reply. And it was the _truth_. Wes couldn’t tell what he was feeling, other than the exhaustion, and he didn’t know if it was a bad thing or not. A silence stretched out between the two of them, and David eventually sighed, leaning his forehead against Wes’s and reaching out to tangle their fingers together.

“Go to sleep Wes. I’ll be here in the morning if you want to talk.” There was a small nod, and he watched as Wes fell asleep; their hands knitted together between their bodies, and their noses almost touching. Thad was going to have a field day with this in the morning; but they had all seen the cracks in Wes and Trent, and anything he could do for his friends, he would. He drifted off to sleep, his last thoughts being centred around what else they could do to help.

* * *

Despite the events the previous day, and the interrupted sleep, Blaine woke up the next morning feeling better than he had done in three weeks. It was like something had snapped within him. The best way he thought to describe it, was comparing it to the summer, when the oppressive heat closes in, and weeks go by without rain. Then the pressure lifts, and the skies break, and the storm comes and washes away the dust and the dirt, bringing with it, life and that smell that you get when everything is so fresh and _alive_.

Maybe he was thinking about storms because he was currently looking into a pair of grey eyes, tinged with just a slight amount of dark blue. The colour of storm clouds. He blinked once, and then twice and then groaned as he pulled away from the head pressing against his and sat up; rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning.” Beat said quietly; kept from sitting up by the fact that he was still wrapped in Trent’s arms.

“What happened last night?” Blaine asked tiredly, trying to chase the memories, like one would try to catch smoke.

“Wes triggered something and it took us a while to get you calmed down.” Beat whispered. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember much; you were pretty out of it.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked out of the blue, frowning as an image of Beat’s terrified eyes flashed through his brain.

“Yeah.” Was the quiet reply. “That’s why Trent’s with us.”

“Where’s Wes?”

“I heard him slip out in the night. I don’t think he slept well.” Blaine sighed in frustration and dropped his head into his hands. They stayed like that for a few minutes, the silence stretching out and bordering on uncomfortable, until Blaine made the decision to wake Trent. He shook the older boy’s shoulder gently and was awarded with Trent letting out a groan and releasing Beat, who immediately sat up to give Blaine a hug. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” He whispered.

“Don’t. I’ve done it enough times over the last few weeks. Don’t apologise Prince. We can’t help what we see in our dreams.” The words sounded like Wes’s and Beat wondered how many times Blaine’s roommate had subjected him to this particular conversation.

“I haven’t had a bad dream in a long time. I thought I’d managed to get a handle on them.” Beat whispered; watching as Trent slowly but surely came to.

“I’m practically the king of backsliding.” Blaine muttered bitterly. “Trust me when I say you’re doing much better than I am.”

“You’ve had a rough couple of weeks. You are allowed to not be okay Dev.”

“I know. It’s just frustrating.” Trent looked up at them with bleary eyes before turning over to try and sight Blaine’s roommate.

“Where’s Wes?” He asked, sitting up in a panic. He spotted a piece of paper on the pillow of the opposite bed and rolled out of the blankets to pick it up; his eyes flying across the page. He breathed a sigh of relief and pushed a hand through his hair. “It’s okay. He’s with David.” He said for his own benefit as much as Blaine’s.

“Thad’s gonna love that.” Blaine snorted. “The jokes aren’t going to end for weeks.”

* * *

“What the fuck?” Was the shriek as the tall boy climbed out of his bed. David and Wes both started awake; their heads bumping together as they jumped, and the pair of them sat up with identical groans.

“Keep the fucking noise down Harwood.”

“Want to tell me why the fuck you’re in my roommate’s bed? Please spare me the kinky details.” Neither of the boys seemed fazed by Thad’s panic induced rant, and David rather seemed quite amused.

“Wes couldn’t sleep.” The boy said with a shrug. “Nothing happened.”

“Blaine had a breakdown last night.” Wes said quietly. “Trent and Beat stayed with him. I couldn’t just stay there knowing there was nothing I could do. I would have gone to Nick or Jeff, but didn’t want to be subjected to a Niff sex scene. Sorry I came here; I just needed some space.”

“It’s okay Wes.” David said soothingly; rubbing the other boy’s back. “You’re welcome here any time you need to get away.” David was glaring at Thad as if to dare him to disagree, and luckily the other senior seemed sheepish at his outburst.

“Yeah, sorry man. I guess it was just a bit of a shock to find my roommate in bed with someone. It’s not what you expect on a Thursday morning.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all cool.” Thad said with a shrug, trying to force a nonchalance that none of them were buying.

“It won’t happen again.” Wes promised; rolling out of David’s bed and pulling on his dressing gown. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking straight last night.”

“Yeah, I guessed that.” Came the teasing reply, the tall boy’s lips pulling into a smirk, now some of the awkwardness had worn off. “But I’m sure you can do better than Thompson.” Wes groaned and shook his head; shooting an apologetic glance at David, who seemed remarkably unfazed by it all.

“I’ll be off. I don’t want the others worrying about me.” He said slipping his feet into his slippers and shuffling out of the door; closing it just in time to hear David go off at his roommate. Ignoring the shouting; he set off back to his own dorm, wondering if anyone was awake yet, and hoping to be able talk to Beat and Trent whilst Blaine was in the bathroom.

He had a lot of apologies to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit to you all that I finished the Daltonverse today, and I have questions and feels. What happens after chapter 28? Will it ever get finished? It's been like six years since an update but can I still be allowed to hope? I loved every bit of it, and can totally see Blaine as the White Rabbit. I'm also not a huge fan of Kurt, as you've probably guessed, but CP Coulter does a great job with painting him as Alice.


	24. Meetings and Arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to get another chapter up everyone. This one was a tricky one to write.

The day passed slowly, and painfully for most of them. Blaine had mercifully not suffered any ill effects from the previous evening’s ‘ _episode_ ’, and Beat was sticking by the older boy; soaking up the positivity, that seemed to be radiating from him and using it to power _himself_ through the day. The nightmare he had suffered had been both terrifying and sobering. It had proven to him that he’d gotten very emotionally involved, very quickly, and he was scared of what that meant for him and Blaine. The first question anyone would think to ask, would be the easiest one for him to answer; he and Blaine were _not_ dating, and no he didn’t think of the older boy in _that_ way. He wasn’t _exactly_ straight, not by a long shot; but he definitely saw Blaine as an older brother, and _not_ a romantic interest.

“Are you okay?” The boy in question asked as they made their way to French class. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m all right.” He said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I could have done with more sleep last night, but apart from that I’m doing fine.” Blaine grimaced at that confession and was about ready to apologise before his name was shouted from half way down the corridor.

“Blaine, Beat, wait up!” Ethan was pushing through the crowd towards them and they both stopped short of the classroom, so that their fellow sophomore was able to catch up with them. “We need to talk about tonight.”

“What’s up Pike?” Beat asked. “We’re about to be late, so out with it.”

“I need to speak to you before the meeting.” The other boy replied, straightening his blazer that had been rumpled in his dash through the crowds. “Can you meet me in the commons at lunch?”

“Why don’t you come and meet us here after this period?” Blaine asked, looking at Beat who nodded to him. “If, of course you don’t mind skipping the first half of lunch service.”

“I don’t.” The brown-haired boy said confirmed quickly. “I snuck sandwiches out of breakfast.”

“Right, we meet straight here when the bell goes.” Blaine said with a nod. “This better be important though, I was supposed to be meeting Trent in the library.”

“Believe me, it _is_ important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. I’ll see you here as soon as the bell goes. I have to run though; I have Spanish and Senõrita Martínez will have my balls if I’m late again.”

“Good luck.” Blaine replied with a snort of amusement as he and Beat finally headed into class; taking the only empty desk, near the front.

“What do you think is going on?” Beat asked, worrying his bottom lip.

“I don’t know, but I’m not sure I like it.” Was quiet reply as Madame St Claire stepped out from behind her desk, silencing the classroom as she started to write the lesson objectives on the board.

The next hour consisted of the pair of them grilling each other, in preparation for their finals. Beat was marginally better, but he admitted to the older boy that he’d spent a small portion of his childhood in France.

“You have no right to complain.” The younger boy snarked when Blaine grimaced at his own pronunciation. “For someone who has never been to France, and has never held a conversation with anyone other than Madame St Claire, you are remarkably fluent.”

“I wish.” Was the sigh. “I still get tenses mixed up.”

“Devon, you take French, Italian _and_ I heard down the grapevine that you speak Tagalog. You have to stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Where did you hear that?” Blaine asked with a small blush.

“I can’t remember now, but that isn’t important. What’s important is that you are going to smash the finals, and you aren’t allowed to keep doing this to yourself.”

“You sound like Trent.”

“Then maybe it’s time you started listening to the pair of us. Now run me through your exam piece one last time.” Blaine did so, pausing only when Beat corrected a small slip up, and by the end of the lesson he was feeling slightly more confident than he had done at the start. They packed their things away when the bell rang, and right on cue, Ethan appeared as they stepped out into the corridor.

“Change of plans.” He said with a small pant, showing that he’d basically ran from Spanish class. “The others are meeting us in the Music Hall.”

“Others?” Was Blaine’s confused answer. Ethan didn’t reply and instead led them through the school, towards the music department.

“Are they here yet sir?” The tall brown-haired boy asked, as Mr Harvey, the music teacher stepped out of his office.

“They are all ready and waiting for you Mr Pike.” Was the man’s reply. “They seem to be quite desperate to get their hands on Mr Anderson here. It seems that they deem you some kind of prodigy Blaine, I personally would love to sit down and discuss your arrangement later, if you have the time.”

“I’m sorry sir, but neither myself nor Beat have any idea on what the pair of you are talking about.” Ethan grinned at them both and dug around in his bag, pulling out a wad of music sheets; stapled together.

“Someone was desperate for us to get our hands on this.” He said, pushing the papers into Blaine’s hands. “We assumed it was the arrangement for Nationals, but when Evan took a proper look at it, he was adamant that we meet here to discuss what you want to do with it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m still a little confused.”

“What Mr Pike is trying to say Blaine, is that they have booked out one of the studios for the entire weekend. Mr Lindley was _very_ insistent that I make room for you all for both Saturday and Sunday.”

“So, we’re here to record?” Beat asked disbelievingly.

“Not today.” Was Ethan’s reply. “But we’re certainly here to discuss doing so over the weekend. Now come on, Evan will have my head if I keep you both out here any longer.” Ethan bounced off and Beat gently took Blaine’s hand, pulling him along slightly as the older boy stared confusedly at the music in his other hand.

* * *

“So, what _really_ happened last night?” David asked as he looked across the table at Wes. Trent had managed to get Evan and Ethan to distract Blaine for the best part of lunch; so, the six seniors were holding an emergency meeting in the Library. “I know that you said that Blaine had a breakdown, but he seems fine this morning.”

“We don’t know just how _okay_ Devon is.” Trent said testily. “You know as well as the rest of us, that even _he_ doesn’t know what he’s feeling most of the time. Either yesterday was a release for him, and he _is_ actually doing better, or he’s distracted enough to be able to bury everything back down and carry on as usual. We have no way of knowing just what is going on in his head.”

“What is going on between him and that Windsor boy?” Thad asked. “They seem to have gotten awfully close in the space of four days.”

“It’s not romantic.” Wes said hurriedly. “At least, not on Devon’s side. He doesn’t have the capacity to be even thinking about that right now.”

“It’s not romantic on Beat’s side either.” Trent said with a nod. “Beat isn’t straight, but neither is he out. He’s questioning a lot about himself, trust me when I say that Dev _won’t_ be the person he turns to when he figures things out.”

“Then what’s his angle?” Jeff asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why does there have to be one?” Was Trent’s reply. “Beat has suffered a lot throughout his life, and he really _is_ just looking for a friend. His mother is a diagnosed schizophrenic, so he can more than handle himself when it comes to dealing with Dev’s outbursts. He just wants to help, and I really do think he _can_. They are already looking at moving into a dorm together, and even if that doesn’t happen before the summer, it certainly will do when they return to school.”

“Can he be trusted?” Nick asked. “I like the boy, but isn’t he awfully quiet? How do we know we can trust him with Blaine’s issues?”

“If you are finding it hard to trust Beat, then please trust _me_.” Trent sighed. “I promise all of you that I’m right about this. The pair of them getting to know each other was _my_ idea. Beat is _my_ roommate right now, and I have made sure he knows what he is getting himself into. This is a good thing guys, I promise you that.”

“What exactly happened yesterday?” David asked, directing this question to Wes, who quite frankly, looked as though he needed a few extra hours of sleep. “What did Blaine mean when he said he’s skipping? Has it already been decided?”

“Father told Blaine about it on Monday.” Wes answered; rubbing his eyes. “He told him without warning me or Trent, and I basically ended up playing Devil’s advocate, to try and get through to Devon what this would mean for him next year. He had a bad nightmare on Monday night, which lead to Beat’s involvement and then you all know what happened on Tuesday morning.”

“Tuesday night Blaine received a call from his parents.” Trent took over the narrative, seeing Wes start to flag. “I picked the phone up as he and Beat were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him up. I answered the phone as Mr Nixon, only to have his father verbally abuse me and throw slurs around directed at both me, and his son. I told him that I was confiscating the phone for 48 hours, and that if he needed to get in touch with D, that he should phone the school directly.”

“I take it that didn’t go down well?” Thad asked with an unhappy frown. “It was a dangerous and foolish move on your part Nixon. We don’t really know what exactly goes on in that house, and you could have put Blaine in serious danger.”

“I know.” Was Trent’s heavy answer. “Believe me I know that. Blaine has already chewed me out himself for it. That was leading up to the incident in the commons yesterday lunch. I know I screwed up, and D has my express assurances that it won’t happen again.”

“So, what happened after that? I take it that’s why you both left Calculus yesterday morning?” Nick asked.

“My parents were called in. Mr Anderson had been on the phone, complaining about a member of staff that prevented him from speaking to his son. Once he found out that I was a student, he apparently hit the roof. My parents are non-too happy with the language he used against me, and it looks like they are starting an investigation into Blaine’s homelife. There isn’t really anything else the school can do at this point. Wes and I both reported suspected abuse to the headmaster, and Blaine has half confirmed it.”

“Dad will have to look into this now.” Wes replied. “He has no choice. Especially if Trent’s family have anything to say about it. I kind of lost it at my dad, big time. It was what put me in such a bad mood yesterday. It was why I shouted in the commons. Yesterday was mostly my fault. I shouldn’t have spoken to Devon like that, and now he’s threatening to move out.” Wes trailed off and was soon pulled against Trent’s shoulder; unexpected tears soaking into the other boy’s blazer.

“We’re all partly to blame for what has happened over the last few weeks.” David said gently. “You can’t keep blaming yourself Wes. We’ve taken our eyes off of the game, and now we’re dealing with the consequences of that. Believe me when I tell you how much I wish I’d stayed at that meeting between Hummel and Blaine. A lot of what has happened could have been prevented is we’d all taken the time to keep a closer eye on the situation.”

“The truth is that we saw Blaine happy.” Jeff responded with a nod. “We thought he was making amazing progress; we didn’t realise how much of that was just us seeing what we wanted to see. If the last few months have taught us anything though, it is just how resilient Blaine actually is. This could have been ten times worse, when in reality, we can all come back from this. We need to sit him down and have a proper conversation with him. Let him know that we’re all going to be here for him, long after we’ve all graduated.” That reminded Nick of the previous night and he mulled over the dozens of questions he had in his mind.

“What did you mean last night when you said about staying another year?” He asked, focussing on Wes who still had his face buried in Trent’s shoulder. “What _really_ triggered that breakdown last night?”

“I’m failing.” Was the sniffled reply, as Wes finally looked up.

“At what?” Was Thad’s shocked reply.

“Everything. My grades are slipping, homework is piling up, I can’t sleep, I have no appetite… I’m worried sick, all the time. I’m so tired.”

“Oh my god Wes.” Nick breathed, getting up and walking around the table to pull Wes from Trent’s arms and into his own. “How could you not have told us any of this?”

“We should have seen it.” Was his boyfriend’s reply. “I’m so sorry Wes, we should have seen this weeks ago.”

“It’s not your fault. Nick’s right, I should have come to you guys sooner.”

“How much do you need to catch up on before your grades can start to come back up?” David asked; determination taking over his face. “Because we can help Wes. We can spend all weekend helping you get where you need to be, even if it means us just typing up as you dictate stuff to us. You’re graduating.” Wes shook his head.

“I can’t. I can’t leave here not knowing whether Devon is going to be okay. Father says I can either repeat or spend the next year as Blaine’s AA.”

“No.” Was Thad’s stony answer. “No, I won’t let you do that to yourself. You’re coming to Princeton with me, and you _are_ going to graduate. It won’t help you; it won’t help Blaine. No wonder he had a fucking breakdown last night. You are basically telling him that he is not good enough or strong enough to go it alone. I won’t let you do that to him.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Wes yelled, standing up and pulling himself out of Nick’s arms. He waved an apology to Ms Prince; who had shot them all a glare. “Don’t you think I know exactly _what_ happened last night?” He had lowered his voice to a hiss, but the anger and the obvious guilt were still there. “Don’t you think I already know how much I’ve fucking screwed up?”

“Guys, please.” Trent begged desperately; seeing Wes was close to the edge. “We shouldn’t be arguing about this. It’s done, we can’t change it, all we can do is move forward. David’s right Wes, we’ll all chip in to get your homework done over the weekend. We can get your grades back up and you can graduate. Leave worrying about everything else to me. I still haven’t asked Beat to call in his favour yet. I promise you that everything will be okay.”

* * *

“Do you honestly think we could pull it off?” Blaine asked as he looked around the small group of boys around him. “It wasn’t written for voices; it was written for a band.”

“We can do this.” Was Evan’s reply. “It won’t be easy but we _can_ and we _will_ perform this at Nationals. Think about it Blaine, who else could have gotten hold of these sheets for us? By passing this along to us, the council are practically _begging_ for us to perform it.”

“Then what is the studio for this weekend?”

“Because we are going to record this song as you wrote it, so that we can pick it apart to assign parts to everyone else.” Ethan replied. “Trust us Blaine, this is your best one yet.”

“I haven’t written that many.” Was the small answer, accompanied by a blush.

“I’m calling bullshit on that straight away.” Beat replied with a grin. “You basically composed this during yesterday’s Calculus lesson. You never stop doodling in the corner of your pages.”

“Fine.” The older boy said; crossing his arms. “But I promised that we’d have an arrangement down within two weeks, and we’ve lost one of them already. If we’re going to do this, it’s going to be right down to the wire.”

“We believe in you Devon.” Beat replied, his hand coming to rest on Blaine’s forearm and his grey eyes going wide. “You can do this.” The other four boys nodded to them, Evan and Ethan leading the charge. They had gathered a pair of Juniors who were known for their flawless harmonies, both of them leading the small group of voices; the Warblers liked to call their ‘ _string and wind_ ’ section.

Daniel Fletcher was a tall, broad-shouldered boy who could almost match Trent for vocal power, and was a shoe-in for one of the two open council spots next year (It was already universally decided that Blaine would become the president). Grant Jessop, on the other hand, was almost as small Beat; standing just a few inches shorter than Blaine; and Evan had described his voice like pouring oil on water.

“We can help you with sorting the parts out.” Grant said quietly; pointing to Daniel. “We don’t usually have any problems with your arrangements. They’re impeccably neat. As soon as we have managed to get the thing down on track, we’ll help you pick it apart and start assigning the voices we think fit the best. The only other question is who is taking the lead?” It was obviously a question they had all been considering, as Blaine had not just Grant’s eyes on him, but those of Evan, Ethan and Daniel as well. Even Beat seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“I think we should hold auditions.” He replied. “It’s traditional for competitions, and I don’t want anyone accusing me of hogging the limelight when I haven’t really been here all that much the last few weeks. It’s not our decision to make either, the council are the only ones who can weigh in on the situation officially.”

“Now _that_ is some grade A bullshit right there.” Daniel chipped in, a hard look in his eyes. “Don’t think that none of us noticed how jealous that gremlin got the other week. Is that what started all of this? Did he give you a hard time over Regionals?”

“Yes, Kurt had comments and feedback.” Blaine answered calmly. “But in a way he was also right. I _am_ shown a lot of preferential treatment by the council, and it’s not right that you guys get stuck in the background as much as you do. We all have voices, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. We all deserve to get heard.” At this, he looked over at Beat, who nodded with a smile; understanding.

“I get it Devon. I will do my best.” The curly-haired boy replied, his grey eyes large and open.

“That’s all any of us can ask of each other.” Was Blaine’s reply; and the four other boys looked at them both in confusion; obviously missing something between the pair but not quite being able to put their finger on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	25. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter here, but there were a lot of conversations that we needed to get out of the way.

“Devon, this is amazing.” Wes breathed as he flicked through the music sheets. “How in the world did you manage this in an afternoon?”

“I had an earworm.” Was the honest answer; punctuated with a shrug. “I needed to get it down on paper and that’s what came out. I hadn’t meant to do it all yesterday, but something just clicked. I had most of it down at lunch time when I came to the commons, but I added in an extra section during calculus. I have no idea how it ended up in the hands of Pike and Lindley though.”

“That would be me.” Trent replied with a blush. “I figured you’d want a head start on the guys getting the harmony sections down, so I passed it along this morning.”

“To say that we were shocked was an understatement.” Ethan replied. “I think Lindley here almost had an aneurism.”

“I couldn’t help it.” Evan defended. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. You don’t usually write those kinds of songs on music paper. Usually it’s done over several weeks, with instruments _actually_ in your hands. I would love to see how your brain works.” Blaine blushed at that, and shot a look at Beat who was beaming at him.

“Do you think you could have this ready by next week?” David asked; scanning over the sheets.

“As long as our studio session goes uninterrupted.” Evan replied. “Grant and Daniel are joining us, and we’d need to borrow Beat and Blaine for the whole weekend as well. We hope that by getting this down on tape as it was written, we’ll be able to pick it apart and start assigning voices. We could do with some studio time next week as well, to get us all in and to lay a track, see if any changes need to be made before we start rehearsing it properly.”

“Who’s singing lead?” Wes asked; shooting a look at Blaine.

“I want it to be fair.” Was the younger boy’s answer. “So, I am now formally asking the council to hold auditions.”

“Wait, this is _your_ song.” Logan replied, shocking most of the room. “You should take the lead on this one Anderson. You are going to know this better than any of us. Why don’t we change our set list to include either another solo, or a duet? From the thickness of those sheets, this looks to be shaping up to be just as much of a group number as a mash-up would be.”

“So, we do this, a second solo, or a duet, and another large group number?” Nick asked to clarify.

“I would be up for that.” David replied.

“All in favour?” Wes asked; smiling when it took less than three seconds for all of their hands to be in the air. “Motion is granted. The five of you have until the Monday after next to finalise this arrangement so that we can start to fully practise it.”

“We’ll be ready.” Evan said, full of confidence and shooting a pleased look at their front man; who was trying very hard to control his blush.

* * *

The silence stretched between them as they got ready for bed. Blaine had spent most of the evening with Trent in the library, giving Wes the chance to get a head start on the enormous stack of papers in his desk; but they had both now showered and changed and barely said two words to each other. It was becoming unbearable.

“Is this it now?” Wes asked quietly. “Is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of the year?” Blaine looked up; somewhat confused. “Don’t look at me like that Devon.” Wes groaned; sitting down on the edge of his bed and burying his face in his hands. “I feel bad enough as it is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know Dev.” Wes whispered. “I know you don’t, and I keep saying that it’s okay, but you’re killing me here. You have to see that something’s wrong, even if you don’t know _what_.”

“I thought you were still mad at me.” The younger boy replied, sitting on his own bed; facing Wes. “I was horrible yesterday. I shouldn’t have said all those things, and I shouldn’t have gotten involved between you and your dad. Then we didn’t really get a chance to talk last night before I freaked out on you.”

“Blaine.” Wes groaned again; rubbing his eyes. “I’m not mad at you. I can never be mad at you for _anything_. I get frustrated with you sometimes, but never mad.” He looked up to see the younger boy’s confused eyes gazing back at him. “Do you even know what happened yesterday? Do you even know how much shit we ended up putting each other through? I was an asshole, and I said a bunch of shit that ended up triggering you into a panic attack. I get that there’s a lot of stuff you don’t understand, and yes, I know that we’ve been keeping certain things from you, thinking that we were sparing you when in fact all we were doing was causing damage.”

“There’s a lot going on between you and the guys that I don’t understand.” Blaine whispered. “Nick looked like he’d not slept a wink the other day. You said you’d tell me but you didn’t. Keeping that phone call from me was dangerous; my parents could have easily pulled me out of school and there would have been nothing any of us could do about it. You didn’t tell me that you were failing, or that you were going to end up repeating a year. You didn’t tell me that you knew about me potentially skipping, and that I was working through the Junior syllabus with Trent. You’ve kept a lot from me Wes, and I know that you do it to try and keep me safe, but it makes it hard to trust you sometimes.”

“I know Dev.” Wes replied; reaching out to grip the younger boy’s hands. “And believe me when I say that I’ve learnt my lesson on that front. I just was hoping that I could keep this year as stress free for you as I could.”

“But _life_ isn’t stress free.” Blaine replied. “And there is going to come a time when I won’t have you to hold my hand. You aren’t always going to be here to protect me Wes, and I don’t _want_ you to try. You have to let me fall sometimes, or I’m never going to learn to get back up. Not only that, but you are _exhausted_. I’m not easy to support, and god knows what I’ve put you through in the last three weeks. I know that you made a joke about it that night in the commons; but I really don’t want to send you grey prematurely. We both have our whole lives ahead of us. We just have to learn to live them.”

“When did you get so smart?” Wes asked with both a smile and a slight sob.

“I’ve had the best teachers in the world.” Was Blaine’s reply, and he swapped beds to wrap the older boy in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“Can I stay with you tonight? Beat’s hugs are good, but they’re not as good as yours.” Wes laughed through his tears and within minutes the lights were off and they were both snuggled down in Wes’s bed. Maybe things really _could_ get better.

* * *

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Beat asked as he slipped on a t-shirt and pulled his quilt back. He was worrying his lip again and there was a tension in his shoulders that had steadily been building all day.

“They’ll be fine Beat.” Trent said in reply and with a small smile. “They’ve gone through worse before.” There was a pause as Beat looked up at the ceiling; flexing his fingers. He glanced over to Trent who was half propped up on pillows and was deeply engrossed in a book.

“Can we talk about last night?” He asked finally; knowing that he wouldn’t settle until he’d gotten it off his chest. Trent looked over and nodded; putting his bookmark in and slipping it under his pillow. He studied the younger boy for a minute before sighing and lifting up his covers; letting Beat swap beds and curl against him.

“Talk to me Edward.” He said softly. “I’m listening.”

“I dreamt about Blaine.” Beat replied before realising how that sounded. “Not like that!” He hurried out quickly; looking up to see an amused smile on Trent’s face. He groaned and tucked himself back into the older boy’s side. “It was a nightmare.”

“I guessed that from the amount of salt water that left your face.” Trent replied; pushing down his amusement as the conversation once again turned serious. “What happened?”

“I was trapped.” Beat whispered, clutching Trent’s arm with his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. “Mom was there and I was trapped. Blaine was hurt and crying and I was locked in the closet trying to get to him. I didn’t make it in time and he was hurt really bad. I was so scared.”

“Oh Beat.” Trent breathed; tightening his hold on the small boy. “Blaine’s safe, and _you’re_ safe.”

“I keep thinking about how dreams are meant to mean things.” Beat whispered. “What if it was telling me that I can’t save Blaine because I’m still confused about what I am? What if I can’t help him because I’m not being honest with myself?”

“You can’t think like that.” Trent said forcefully. “You can’t read into anything your subconscious tries to show you. You were reading Harry Potter on Tuesday; how do you know that your subconscious didn’t take his cupboard under the stairs and turn it into a closet? You said your mom was there? What was _she_ doing?”

“Hurting him.” Was the whisper, followed by a sob. “Like she hurt me.” Trent didn’t know quite what to say at that so he held Beat close until he could feel the sobs dying down.

“I know that you were scared.” He whispered after a few minutes. “I know that you still _are_. But I promise you that you are safe here Beat. Even when I’m gone there are going to be others to watch out for you. Blaine is safe, and is sleeping in the next hall, and he will be one of those watching over you after the summer. Everyone’s safe Edward. I promise you that.”

“But what if I’m _not_.” Beat whispered. “What if I become like her?”

“I would have thought that the amount of stress you have been put under the last few years, would have triggered something by now.” Trent whispered. “I promise you Beat that until anyone tells you otherwise, there is no indication that it will happen to you. And _if_ anyone ever tells you anything different, you won’t be alone. I’ll always be here to support you, and you can call me at any time; day or night.”

“I’m just scared.”

“I know you are. I know that me telling you over and over that you’re safe, won’t do anything to help that, but I can promise you that if you are ever in trouble, I’ll always come running.”

“What if I’m right? What if dreaming about the closet means what I think it means? I shouldn’t be this confused.”

“There is no rush to work out who you are. You don’t necessarily need a label to be happy Beat. You just do you. As long as it makes you happy, you don’t need to define what it is. Whether you’re gay, straight, purple, orange or dinosaur; that which makes you different, makes you strong. Blaine once told me that.”

“He’s one of the smartest people I know.” Beat whispered.

“Yeah, me too.” Trent replied softly. “You wanna stay tonight?” There was a nod against his collarbone and he tucked the pair of them in; settling down for the night.

“Good night Trent.”

“Good night Beat, get some sleep.”

* * *

“I can’t stop thinking about him.” Nick whispered, his head resting on Jeff’s collarbone and his arms wrapped around his waist. “He’s done so much for all of us and we’ve let him deal with this on his own.”

“Wes is strong.” His boyfriend whispered back. “We are here to help now. He has reached out. From this point on we can do whatever we need to, but we _can’t_ change the past. It’s like Trent said; we all need to move on from this.”

“What if he doesn’t graduate?”

“I promise you that if Trent has a say in it, he’ll graduate.” Jeff replied with a snort of amusement. “I mean, he’s practically being teaching Blaine the Junior material all year; if he can help our little curly haired friend skip a year, I’m sure he’ll have no problems helping Wes catch up on a few weeks of homework.”

“But shouldn’t we be taking care of Trent too?” Nick whispered. “He looks about as done in as Wes does, and by the sounds of it he’s been doing a lot of the emotional heavy lifting.” Jeff sighed; knowing that Nick was right. However, Trent’s was an unusual case. Born to a therapist and a doctor, he’d been practically trained form birth to _do_ the emotional heavy lifting.

“Something tells me that he and Wes will put each _other_ back together.” He said finally. “I think the best thing we can do for them now is focus on Blaine. Give them something less to worry about.”

“They will always worry about him.” Was the quiet answer. “I think we all will. I honestly don’t know if he’s ready for next year, and I feel awful admitting that because he was doing so well, and he’s been working so hard. But there is only so much any of us can do to prepare him for the amount of stress he’s going to be under. What if he can’t cope?”

“He will.” Jeff replied. “Blaine is much stronger than any of us give him credit for. He’ll manage. He will have Beat, and something tells me he and Lindley are going to end up close. He will be okay Nick. We just have to believe in him.”

“I never stopped believing in him.” Nick whispered. “Since the first day I laid eyes on him; shaved head and half his body in casts. He’s always had a strength to him that none of us could really comprehend.”

“Then trust him.” Was the answer. “Trust in that strength, trust in his judgement and trust in the network Trent is building for him. He’ll be okay.”

“Are _we_ going to be okay?” Jeff froze at that. Neither of them had discussed what would happen when high school finished. Sure, they had both applied to practically the same colleges, but there was no guarantee that they would end up moving on together.

“Yeah, of course we are.” The blond replied; hoping that he sounded more confident than he felt.

* * *

“Are we expecting another visitor tonight?” Thad asked as he pulled on a hoodie. David glared at him but didn’t say anything; instead getting into bed and turning to face the wall. “You know, if you wanted some action, all you had to do was ask right?”

“Fuck off Harwood.” Was the reply from the other boy. “Go to bed.” Thad chuckled at that and settled down, flicking his reading lamp on before hitting the main lights.

“You know, there’s something about that Windsor kid that I don’t like.” He said; staring at the ceiling; his arms behind his head. “Don’t you think he’s a little _off_?”

“ _You’re_ a little off.” Was the muttered reply. “Besides, I trust Trent to know what he’s doing. He has been rooming with him for the last two years; he would know if there was something wrong. Now go to bed Harwood, before I suffocate you with your own pillow.” Thad smiled at that and reached up to turn off the light.

He would be keeping a close eye on both Blaine and the drum-kit for the foreseeable future. He just couldn’t seem to shake the bad feeling he had about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our cast is filling out now, let me know if things start getting confusing. I have rough backstories for most of our characters, if you need me to write them in, I can do so easily.


	26. Euphoria

“I can’t believe we’ve managed to get through this week relatively unscathed.” Wes sighed, running his hand over his face. He and Trent had decided to leave Blaine in the hands of Niff for lunch, and the pair of them had sequestered themselves away in the library for an end of week debrief. “I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”

“By the look of things, we seem to be over the worst of it now.” Trent said softly. “As long as we manage to keep him stable for the next week or so we should be fine. The more pressing matter is what is hiding within your desk. With Blaine out of the way in the studio all weekend, we should be able to get you through the bulk of that paperwork. Have you spoken to anyone about an extension?”

“I feel bad about doing it, but I went straight to the top.” Wes said guiltily. “Father understands what has been going on the last few weeks, and he was planning on feeding it down to our teachers.”

“I spoke to Knowles before D’s study session last night. He was very understanding.”

“As much as I need to get that homework done, all I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep for a week.”

“But just think; by this time next week, your homework will be finished, the setlist will have been finalised, your Hockey practises will have just started, giving you time during the week to get out and clear your head on the field. Next weekend you can stay in bed the entire two days, or we can go out to celebrate.”

“I’m grounded.” Wes said with a grimace. “For three weeks. It’ll be another two weekends after this one before I can go off campus.”

“Then that gives you plenty of time to catch up on your sleep. Has Blaine said anything else about swapping dorms?”

“No. I think we’re okay though. I guess we’ll see in the next few days.”

“It seems silly them moving right downstairs.” Trent said thoughtfully. “If he is still adamant about moving out, we could swap. Either I move in with you or you move in with me. That way, we’re all still on the same floor, Nick and Jeff are close at hand and David and Thad are just a few doors away.”

“I don’t want him to go.” Wes whispered.

“As harsh as it sounds, this isn’t a decision you can make Wes.” Trent said gently. “I know what it must be doing to you, but we have to consider what is best for Blaine. How much good will the pair of you rooming together do, if all it does is lead to fights, arguments and meltdowns? Beat is more than capable of handling Blaine at his worst, and for now we’re all still here to support him. A teething period before next year is not the worst idea D could have come up with. I think all of us expected him to demand a dorm to himself.”

“I know. I get it, I really do. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with though.” Trent knew that, and he reached up to rub Wes’s shoulder, trying to be there to support his friend who was obviously hurting over this. The problem they had, was that when he had an idea in his head, Blaine could become stubborn, and defensive, and nothing they could do or say would change his mind. What had happened with Kurt had become the perfect example of that, and Trent knew that any attempt to push back at Blaine would result in another fight; something they all wanted to avoid as much as possible.

“It will work itself out.” He said softly; hoping that he was right.

* * *

“What time are you meeting the guys in the morning?” Wes asked as he pulled back the covers on his bed.

“About nine. They wanted a late start so they had time to order us some breakfast in. I think Ethan was planning on going and picking up coffee and cronuts. It should be better actually, I think I’ve written another section in today, and I want time to test it out before we settle in for the long recording session.”

“You wrote another part?” Wes asked; his eyebrows shooting up.

“Well, not exactly. There was something missing from the start, so I wrote something in specifically for voices, it sounds better now.” Wes shook his head at that, not even questioning how Blaine knew how it sounded. When it came to his roommate’s musical talents; he was done being surprised.

“I need to ask you something.” He said softly, leaning back on his headboard; propped up by pillows. “And I need an honest answer from you.” Blaine looked a mixture of confused and worried, and Wes was quick to soothe him. “You haven’t done anything wrong Dev. I just need you to promise me that you’ll be honest with me.”

“Okay.” Blaine nodded his head, still weary.

“Are you going to move out of here and in with Beat?” Blaine frowned for a moment, seemingly mulling it over.

“I don’t know. Do you need me gone to concentrate on your studies?”

“No.” Was the quick reply. “No not at all. I just… I would rather you didn’t go anywhere for now. I’d miss you.”

“But we keep fighting Wes. This can’t be healthy for either of us.”

“Give me another week.” Wes pleaded. “One week; to prove to you that this can work. If you still want to move out then fine, I’ll even help you pack up but, please don’t make this a knee jerk reaction because of what happened this week. I know that you want to test how living together will go between you and Beat, and I fully support that, in fact I think it’s a wonderful idea. But it doesn’t have to happen straight away. We still have a few weeks of term left, and I’d really rather not have you move out under a dark cloud.” Blaine considered this for a few moments, and Wes felt like he was waiting for graduation results; his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Okay. One more week, and if we manage to make this work; I’ll defer moving in with Beat until the end of the year.” Wes breathed a sigh of relief at that and felt his shoulders sag as the tension drained out of them. Blaine could see that his roommate was hurting, and he felt bad that he always seemed to put Wes through so much.

“Thank you.” The older boy whispered. “Thank you, Devon. I promise that we’ll make this work.” Blaine nodded and for the second night in a row, crawled into the older boy’s bed; curling into his side.

“I’m sorry that I keep hurting you.” He whispered. “It’s the last thing I want to do Wes, but this week has all just been a bit much to take in. The last couple of weeks have really. I guess I wasn’t doing as well as I thought I was.”

“You _are_ doing well Devon.” Wes replied softly. “All of us can see that. Compared to where you were not even six months ago, I’d say you have been doing brilliantly. I know this thing with Hummel has been hard, and we probably haven’t made it any easier being so overprotective of you, but none of us wanted to hurt you, and I know you haven’t meant to hurt any of us. Besides, we’re all tougher than we look, it does us good to have our egos taken down every now and then. You were right what you said the other day you know.”

“Which part of it?”

“All of it. We _are_ an integral part of your life Dev. We have been ever since I put that blanket over you as you were sleeping on top of your bed and ended up scaring the shit out of you. It’s not fair that we’ve been keeping things from you. It’s not fair that you are feeling suffocated.”

“Wes; we covered all of this last night.”

“And yet you are still planning on moving out.” Wes answered back before sighing in frustration and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know that it’s not my decision to make. I know that you have other reasons for wanting to do it. But I can’t help feeling like I’ve failed you if you are too scared to even live in the same room with me.”

“I’m not scared of you Wes.” Blaine replied, a frown on his face. “I’m scared _for_ you. I told you last night that I am terrified of hurting _you_.”

“You wouldn’t do that Dev. I know you wouldn’t.”

“And yet I had you up against the bathroom door in a chokehold.” The younger boy countered. “I’m scared of how far I will go next time I feel threatened.”

“Why don’t you fight me then?” Wes whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Challenge me to the ring, put me in my place once and for all. Take out all of your frustrations whilst we’re both in headgear and we’re being watched over by the crowd. Fight me Blaine. Fight me to make peace with yourself, because what you are doing now isn’t healthy.”

“My hands are still sore.”

“Next week then. Either in the week or we wait until the weekend. Let yourself be angry at me for once.”

“I’ll think about it.” Was the whispered answer, and he could feel Blaine’s body slowly becoming dead weight. He flicked off the reading light above him and managed to get them both settled in before the younger boy was fully asleep.

* * *

“Morning Blaine!” Evan greeted; bouncing into the studio. “Decided to get an early start?”

“I wrote another section in yesterday.” The boy in question replied with a grimace. “It sounds good but it’s added at least another minute onto the runtime.”

“Well, until we’ve heard the whole thing there’s no point taking anything out.” The dark-haired boy said with a shake of his head. “We record the lot and then you can decide what you want to do with it, arrangement-wise.”

“I mean; it’s basically a fight song.” Blaine responded with a slight blush. “I wrote it in anger.” Evan merely grinned at that. “The only thing I don’t really want to compromise on is the volume of the piece. There are sections that are practically shouted.”

“Are we going to need more voices?” The younger boy asked worriedly.

“I don’t think so, but I might have different, slightly more radical suggestion.”

“Which is?”

“Pre-record some of the background vocals, particularly the section I wrote in last night. I’m not saying we record any harmonies or anything like that, we need them to be live, but that particular section, and some of the background shouting on the chorus could do with getting doubled up on. It’s not like the other teams don’t use music.”

“Good luck getting _that_ past the council.” Evan said with a snort. “But honestly, until we’ve heard the thing we aren’t going to really know. So how do you fancy getting a head start? It’s just gone eight so that gives us an hour before everyone else gets here.”

“Okay. I’m taking booth one, are you going to be okay at the desk?”

“Trust me; Harvey wouldn’t have let me anywhere near the thing if I didn’t know what I was doing. I’ve been mixing since before I could walk.” Blaine snorted in amusement and stepped into the booth, forgoing headphones as he planned on getting the lead vocals down and building everything around them.

* * *

“You got all of this done in an hour?” Ethan asked; in shock at what he was listening to. “How the hell?”

“It turns out that I’m more productive first thing than I am _after_ coffee.” Blaine replied with a shrug. “That, and the fact that Lindley here is practically a wizard at the desk.”

“Blaine, this is truly an amazing piece of music.” The brown-haired boy said; slightly in awe. “No wonder Wes was so pissed off at Logan’s outburst the other day.”

“Wait, what outburst?” Blaine asked in confusion.

“They didn’t tell you?” Ethan asked, worry setting in when the sophomore crossed his arms, a scowl pulling at his eyebrows. “I take that as a no. Besides, you guys basically sorted it out between yourselves on Thursday anyway. He was just repeating what he’d already spewed out on Tuesday. You should have heard Nixon; his language was very colourful.”

“I wish people would start telling me things.” Blaine muttered. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now. We still have a few more tracks to lay down on this thing before we start polishing and pulling it apart. I’m going back in the booth and re-recording the lead, seeing as I’m pissed off enough right now to get the emotion right.” He stalked off and Ethan shot a look at the Freshman who was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t there.

“I think that was a mistake.” He said. “I’m going to need to apologise to Montgomery, aren’t I?”

“Not for me to say.” Evan replied with a snort of amusement. “It is a very impressive hole though. Any ideas on how to dig your way back out?” Ethan let out a groan just as Blaine asked if they were ready for another take. The Freshman fiddled with the board, lowering the volume of the first lead vocal take and hitting record; sticking his thumbs up to the older boy in the booth.

* * *

Blaine breathed slowly as the first few bars of the song started. He’d done most of the work on his guitar, followed by a very shaky attempt at getting the drum beat down; followed by a keyboard, and then eventually layering up take after take of him practically screaming down a mic. The effect that was now being blasted into his ears was quite something.

_Into the night,_   
_Desperate and broken._   
_The sound of a fight,_   
_Father has spoken._

He felt the music wash through him as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the words he had written. It felt a little like hope, and a lot like anger. But either way, it was a release. This was what he had needed. It was what he _craved._ Music was his drug of choice, and it was these moments; when he was riding the high, that he could actually _breathe_.

_We were the Kings and Queens of promise,_   
_We were the victims of ourselves._   
_Maybe the children of a lesser God,_   
_Between Heaven and Hell,_   
_Heaven and Hell._

Outside the booth, Evan and Ethan could barely believe what they were witnessing. Blaine’s head was thrown back in euphoria, and the voice coming out of the tiny Sophomore was like nothing they’d previously heard from him. It felt like watching a complete transformation take place, and they wondered just who would step out of the booth after the take.

_Into your eyes,_   
_Hopeless and taken._   
_We stole out new lives,_   
_Through blood and name._   
_In defence of our dreams,_   
_In defence of our dreams._

_We were the Kings and Queens of Promise,_   
_We were the victims of ourselves._   
_Maybe the children of a lesser God,_   
_Between Heaven and Hell,_   
_Heaven and Hell._

There was a lull in the music as it came up to the bridge; and Blaine used it to collect himself slightly; knowing that he still had the full day ahead of him, and not wanting to wreck his vocal cords before they’d even managed to get the whole track down.

_The age of man is over,_   
_A darkness comes at dawn._   
_These lessons that we’ve learned here,_   
_Have only just begun._

_We were the Kings and Queens of promise,_   
_We were the victims of ourselves._   
_Maybe the children of a lesser God,_   
_Between Heaven and Hell._

_We were the Kings and Queens of Promise,_   
_We were the victims of ourselves._   
_Maybe the children of a lesser God,_   
_Between Heaven and Hell!_

He let the music fade out before taking off the headphones and finally opening his eyes. The two boys behind the glass had gathered themselves enough to give him a thumbs up, and he nodded, stepping back out of the booth into the desk room.

“How did that sound?”

“I you sing like that on the day, Nationals is in the bag.” Ethan replied, trying to keep his face neutral. They had suspected that working with the Sophomore was going to bring surprises, but neither of them could have foreseen what they had just witnessed.

And it was only half nine in the morning… on day _one_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Blaine's song has finally been revealed, and things between him and Wes are starting to look up. The song I've used is Kings and Queens by Thirty Seconds to Mars. The lyrics fit and it is dramatic enough for Blaine's character. What do you guys think? Could it win them Nationals?


	27. Arrangements

Wes groaned and dropped his head onto his calculus homework, as David placed his History essay next to him. He’d been dictating to Thad, who’d typed it up for David to print out, answering calculus questions that Nick kept throwing at him; all the while working on his French oral piece with Trent. He was pretty sure that half of his French piece contained sections of his History essay, and that Jeff had been translating most of his calculus answers to Nick, who took Italian rather than French.

“I think I need coffee.” He moaned. “How much is left?”

“You’ll be pleased to know that we’re about halfway there.” Trent replied happily. “And it’s not even three in the afternoon yet.”

“I can’t take anymore today. My head feels like it’s about to implode.”

“Well we have all day tomorrow as well.” Trent replied with a nod, fully understanding where Wes was coming from. The day had been _intense_. “If needs be, we can finish the last few bits and pieces on Monday night. All there is left for you to do today is to proofread your History so that one of us can type up a final draft.”

“Can I do that later tonight? I need a serious break.”

“As long as it’s done for tomorrow morning it doesn’t matter what time you do it. I was thinking about seeing if I can sweet talk my way into getting something from the kitchens and we could have a trip down to see how the guys are getting on with the arrangement.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Jeff replied; perking up from where he and Nick had been slouched against the wall on Blaine’s bed. “We’ll take Wes down there whilst you go put those boyish charms of yours to good use.” With that, he and Nick practically dragged Wes up from his desk and out of the dorm, leaving Thad, Trent and David in a stunned silence.

“Did they just _bail_?” Thad asked incredulously. Trent chuckled at that, knowing it had been a tough day for all of them.

“Let them have their fun. It’ll do Wes some good. Are you guys coming with me to the kitchens, or are you following them straight down?”

“Coming with you.” David replied. “Now that we’re alone we need to discuss something with you.”

“This sounds serious.” Trent said with a frown. “Let’s walk and talk though. We’ve been sitting down all day.” The two of them nodded and followed their fellow senior out of the dorm and towards the staircase. “Now what’s going on?”

“You are aware that Wes came to me the other night, aren’t you?” David asked.

“He left a note on his pillow for me to find. It just about gave me heart attack though when I woke up and he wasn’t there. Get to the point though would you Thompson?”

“We think you already know what we’re going to say.” Thad replied stiffly. “You can’t honestly try to bullshit us in what’s going on. He needs help. _Both_ of you need help.”

“ _I’m_ okay.” Trent said softly, glad that the corridors were mostly empty. “Yes, I could do with catching up on some sleep, but I really _am_ all right. I talk to my mother most evenings, and I can mostly disassociate from everything these days. I agree with you on your point about Wes though. I was just hoping we could get both him and Blaine through a stable week before I approached him about it. His dad knows he’s struggling, and is being pro-active in trying to help, the most we can do for now is to try and keep both of them on an even course.”

“You think he has another week in him?” David asked, raising an eyebrow. “I love Blaine to bits, we all do; nothing is going to make us stop thinking of him as a little brother. But this is not healthy for Wes, Trent. Surely you can _see_ that? He was looking at staying another year for the sole purpose of looking after Blaine. The young one needs professional help, we all know that; we’ve known it from the start, but it’s now getting to a stage where it’s hurting Wes, _and_ you. You look like you haven’t slept a decent night in weeks.”

“I promise you both that I’m doing fine.” Trent stressed. “I know the signs and symptoms; and so does my mother. If I needed to be in therapy I already would be. As for Wes and Blaine, please just give it another week. We’ve lit a fire under Mr. Montgomery’s arse, give it a week to bear fruit.”

“Not the analogy I needed right now Nixon.” Thad said, looking slightly ill at the images Trent had put in his head.

“You know what I was trying to get at.”

“Okay, just stop.” Thad replied again as those images became even worse. “Please I beg of you. We get it. Give it another week, and if nothings changed then we step in.”

“Wait, what?” Trent asked; stopping in the middle of the corridor. “Step in how?”

“Our parents Nixon.” Thad replied; rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Your mum is a therapist, your dad; a doctor and you have ties to _THE_ Nixon family. My dad is a lawyer and my mum works for congress, David’s mum is a psychologist and his dad works for the Army. We have connections, none of which we have yet used to help Blaine. The time for standing back and letting Wes’s dad do all the work is over. He’s failed not just Blaine but his own son as well, surely you must be a little pissed at him, given the situation.”

“Of _course,_ I am.” Trent replied. “But I kind of get the situation _he’s_ been put in as well. The Andersons had D practically branded as special needs. The courts sided with _them_. Anything that Dev says could be contested as delusions because of his surgery and the side effects. Surely you see the position that has put Wes’s dad under?”

“So, what’s changed now?” David asked. “What’s different about his case now, that Mr Montgomery thinks he can do something?”

“Because now he has three separate accounts of the abuse Blaine suffered at Spring Break. Wes and I both told him about the bruises and the weight loss.”

“But you swore to Blaine you would never tell.” Thad replied in shock; before fury overtook him.

“And Dev doesn’t need to know. But my parents do, Wes’s dad does; and if it can get D the help, he needs then I won’t be apologising for it. I _certainly_ shouldn’t be answering to either of you. We all saw what happened to him. I _won’t_ let him go back through it.”

“Then you better have a fucking good excuse for when he finds out.” Thad hissed, stalking off down the corridor; towards the cafeteria. Trent sighed and rubbed his eyes; his shoulders sagging slightly.

“It’ll be okay.” David soothed; rubbing his friend’s arm. “Blaine isn’t bound to find out, and even if he does it’ll be too late anyway because he’ll already have what he needs. Ignore him, he’s just a prickly asshole sometimes.”

“I know.” Trent whispered. “But he’s right. I’ve betrayed Dev, _again_. And the worst thing is, I don’t know if I can come back from it if he finds out.”

“He’ll grow to understand though Trent. He might not like it, but he _will_ come to accept it. Come on, let’s go and put your baby face to good use so that we can treat our little brother to coffee.”

* * *

Wes didn’t really know what to say at the piece of music that was blasting though the headphones. It was truly spectacular, he had to give Blaine that; but the lyrics set him on edge, and hit just slightly close to home, considering when and why they were written.

Blaine’s hopeful face, staring at him meant he couldn’t possibly do anything but smile at the younger boy and offer his congratulations and highly positive feedback at what he’d achieved. It was worth it, seeing as his face went from nervous anticipation, to a megawatt grin in the space of a second. Wes laughed tiredly as the dark-haired boy bounced around the studio in a happy daze and he felt himself flagging as the day caught up to him. He moved from the chair at the board to the sofa in the back of the studio and found himself propped up by Nick, who was giving him a supportive smile.

“I take it the song is acceptable.” He said softly, watching his boyfriend’s eyes go wide as Jeff was the next one to don the headphones.

“It’s amazing.” Wes replied. “I can’t believe he managed it in a day.”

“This _is_ Blaine we’re talking about.” The other boy said with a laugh. “He doesn’t do anything by half.” The pair of them watched from the sofa as a lively conversation started up between the group of boys who were surrounding the mixing desk. Grant and Daniel looked as though they had stepped through the looking glass, and Beat, Evan and Ethan were only marginally better as Blaine jabbered on to Jeff about how they were going to pull it apart. By the time Trent, Thad and David showed up with coffee and chocolate cake, Wes was asleep against his shoulder and he was even starting to feel his own eyelids getting heavier.

“Nick?” Trent whispered, tapping him on the shoulder and handing him a coffee cup.

“I don’t want it.” He mumbled. “Let us sleep.” He heard Trent chuckle and felt himself drift back into a haze; vaguely aware of the conversations around him, but too tired to participate.

“Are they okay?” Blaine asked quietly as he glanced from Trent to the pair on the sofa.

“They’ve just had a rough day.” Jeff replied reassuringly. “Trent has been grilling Wes since half eight this morning. They just need sleep.”

“Let’s hear it then.” Thad said, approaching the group with several cups of coffee in a holder, only to be shouted at by Evan, for bringing liquids anywhere near the board. Blaine raised his eyebrows at the Freshman who was obviously not shy about speaking his mind, or about minding his language for that matter, as he cussed Thad out for being such an idiot (or as the Freshman put it; a fucking dipshit).

David watched on amused, but still concerned about Wes, who was tucked against Nick’s side, his eyebrows pulled into a small frown as he napped. Trent shot him a knowing look and a half reassuring smile, obviously burying down the fact that it had been _him_ who had needed reassurances not even fifteen minutes ago and David sighed at the stubbornness of his friends.

* * *

“You’ve done amazingly well to get that all down today.” Wes said with a smile; watching Blaine pull on one of his old hockey t-shirts that the younger boy had stolen the previous year.

“You really like it?” Blaine asked with large eyes. “Do you think it’ll be okay for Nationals?” Wes smiled tiredly and held out his hands for Blaine to take.

“I loved it Devon.” He said earnestly. “You really are very clever, and I know that it will sound wonderful. I’m proud of you.” Blaine had blushed at that and muttered a small thanks before climbing into his own bed.

“I’m glad we’re okay.” He whispered.

“Me too Dev.” Wes replied. “Now get some rest, you have another day of it tomorrow.”

* * *

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Trent said softly; sitting down on the edge of his bed, and motioning Beat to do the same.

“This sounds serious.” The younger boy said nervously.

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” Trent responded hurriedly. “I just need a favour.”

“Okay.”

“I need to speak with your cousin.”

“Who Stan? What the hell would you need to speak to him for?” Beat asked. “He’s a douche.” Trent chuckled at the face the younger boy was pulling, his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows pulled into a frown.

“Because I think it would be prudent to have another set of eyes here next year. Someone who won’t take any of D’s bullshit, and who can watch over you at the same time.”

“You can’t do this to me.” Beat said, his eyes going wide as he shook his head in horror, and Trent outright laughed at the younger boy’s dramatics. No matter what he said, Trent knew he loved his older cousin.

“You’ll be fine Beat.” He said, still laughing. “You love him really, and he will be here primarily for D.”

“You don’t know what this will do to him. He’ll become a monster.”

“Okay, _that_ was uncalled for. He’s a softie really and I know that you love him.”

“You don’t know him like I do, this will send his ego through the roof.”

“Beat, stop being dramatic and just hear me out.”

“Nope.” The younger boy’s strawberry curls bounced as he shook his head, and Trent could imagine him stamping his foot.

“Beat.” He said warningly; eyeing the sophomore. It took about thirty seconds for the boy to relent, sigh, and hand him his phone.

“He’ll be up. He never sleeps.”

“What time is it over there?”

“Around two. Trust me though, he’s up.”

“You better phone him then.” Trent replied, holding the phone out to the younger boy. “If I wake him up, he’s more likely to say no.”

“He can never say no to you Trent. You’re like the Godfather.”

“You just don’t want to deal with him.” Trent said with a laugh.

“Guilty as charged.” Trent shook his head and found the number.

“Are you sure he’s up?” He asked with a frown.

“I’m sure, now dial the damn thing.” The older boy sighed and did just that.

* * *

“You’re quiet.” Burt said as he handed Carol a wine glass. “What’s up?”

“I can’t stop thinking about what Kurt said earlier. About Blaine.” Kurt had barely talked about anything else over dinner, but they both knew what part of the conversation she meant.

“Yeah, me neither. You know the kid’s mom came into the shop this week.”

“What is she like?”

“Let’s just say that I worry for his homelife.” Was his answer as he fixed his eyes on the TV set. “She was going on about therapists.”

“But that isn’t unusual given what happened to him.”

“Yeah, not those kinds of therapists.” Carol’s eyes went wide as the pieces clicked together in her mind. “You know, when Kurt phoned me this week, I guess I thought that he was being a little…”

“Dramatic?” Carol finished. “I thought so too at first. But the more I learn, the more worried I get.”

“You know, I researched those kinds of things when I realised that Kurt was gay.” Burt said quietly. “I wanted to be sure than no one could force him into going to one. That he wouldn’t be taken away from me. But the kids there need parental consent to go, and at the time I wondered what kind of parent puts their kid through something like that? Now I know.”

“They’re not uncommon.” Carol said sadly. “But there isn’t a lot anyone can do legally.”

“Did you know? About him being a victim?”

“I had my suspicions. He hides it well, but the signs are there.” She watched as Burt rubbed his eyes and she knew exactly what her husband was thinking. “It won’t happen to Kurt.” She said softly. “He has friends to stick up for him. He could go back to McKinley on Monday and you know he’d be looked after.”

“I know, I just wish I’d been able to do something to better equip him for the real world. High school is one thing, but college is another. How do I know that he’ll be safe?”

“You trust him.” She answered, putting down her glass to rub his arm. “Kurt’s smart, and as much as I hate to say it, he’ll know far more about what it’s going to be like for him that you do. You just have to trust that he’ll know when and how to watch his back.”

“I just wish there was something more I could be doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, David and Thad are worried, Trent is finally calling in his favour, and the Hudmel's are in full discussion. Let me know your thoughts!


	28. The Godfather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Nationals is approaching and Trent is on the move to secure an extra set of eyes in the school. Thank you to all that take the time to read and leave kudos and comments, they really do make my day.

“I made a phone call last night.” Trent said out of the blue as Wes finished off yet another essay, setting it aside for either David or Thad to proofread. The rest of the seniors looked up at him, several eyebrows raised. “I called in a favour from Beat’s cousin.”

“Why does Beat’s cousin owe you a favour?” Nick asked.

“Because I have looked after Beat for the last two years.” Trent replied with a shrug. “But Seb has been bugging his parents to allow him to move back to the States, and now, with me graduating; he has an actual excuse to do so. He’s older than Beat, and his father is Beat’s mom’s, older brother, so he has promised his dad that he would look after him.”

“And, how does this equate to you calling in this favour?” Thad asked. “What is it you’ve asked him to do?”

“Watch over both Beat and Blaine of course.” Trent replied. “I trust him. He’s very protective of his cousin, and I asked him to extend that protection to Blaine as well. I’ve met him twice, and both times he did nothing but grill me about how Beat was doing in school, asking whether he’d had any issues, and if his home life was affecting him in any way. He’s a little crass, and doesn’t take any bullshit, and he can also have a tendency to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, having something to concentrate on should keep him out of trouble. His Mother is the head of a Paris fashion house and his father is a lawyer. He’d be the perfect candidate to bring into our confidence.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.” Thad muttered darkly. “I still say something’s off with the Windsor boy as it is, without any strange relatives being brought into the mix.”

“I need you to trust me on this one guys.” Trent stressed as David and Jeff looked ready to agree with Thad. “Seb is more than capable of handling Devon, and I think he could actually do some good. He won’t coddle him, and he won’t take any of Blaine’s; ‘ _I can’t do this_ ’ bullshit. Trust me when I say that he is exactly what Devon needs, and is the natural next step in working on his confidence.”

“We trust you Trent.” Wes said softly. “But don’t you think this is all moving a little fast? We keep throwing new people at Devon, and sooner or later it’s going to start to stress him out. We need to be careful on how we do this. Slow and steady might be the best strategy for this.”

“I would agree with you if we didn’t only have two months left before the end of the year.” Was his frustrated answer, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I know that we are in danger of stressing Blaine out, but stressing him out for a week or so now, will certainly save us a lot of hassle further down the line. This way, we can have everything settled before the summer, and he won’t have anything to worry about when he comes back. He’ll already have a support system in place.”

“I agree with Trent.” Nick said. “This is an issue that is becoming more serious, the closer summer gets. Throwing new situations at Blaine now, will certainly save him a lot of upset after the break. He will know exactly what he’s walking into then.”

“I think we need a full discussion on who is going to be brought into our collective confidence then.” Wes said. “We need to sort out his support system _now_ , and have a sit down with all of them; including Devon, for a full discussion. That way, everyone knows what they are walking into.”

“Seb is smart.” Trent said with a shrug. “He’ll quite easily be able to give D a hand academically.”

“What year will he transfer into?” Jeff asked.

“More than likely it’ll be Junior. He’s coming to the end of his schooling in Europe, which makes him D’s age.”

“Which means they’ll be seniors together next year. How long before he gets over here?”

“Knowing him, I give it a couple of days.” Trent replied with a shrug. “He’s a very driven individual.”

“Sounds like someone we know.” David said with a smirk in his direction. “You’d make a good match.”

“Yeah laugh it off.” Trent said with a slight blush. “It won’t be a laughing matter when he is swept off his feet by D.”

“Do you think that’s a possibility?” Wes asked with wide eyes. Trent just threw him a look that translated to ‘ _are you kidding me?_ ’ and Wes could do nothing but shake his head at his own stupidity.

“He’s Blaine Fucking Anderson, what do you think?” Thad asked, crossing his arms.

“I know, stupid question.” Wes replied. “I guess I’m not as okay with this as I thought. Give me a few days, and let me meet the guy and I’ll probably feel better about the whole situation.”

“That’s unlikely.” Nick said with a snort. “I don’t think any of us are going to stop worrying until well into next year, when everything has settled down.”

“It’s hard to believe that I won’t see you guys every day.” David said in a whisper. “It’s going to be weird.”

“We’ll see each other when it matters.” Was Trent’s reply. “If you think I’m letting you all go that easily, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Our very own Godfather.” Wes said with a snort. “You scare me sometimes Nixon.” Trent just grinned at that, and the room burst into loud laughter.

* * *

“So, we’re all in agreement?” Evan asked as he hovered his mouse over the send button.

“Yes.” Beat replied with a nod. “It is as good as we can get it between just the five of us. When we start to build the other voices on top of it, it will take shape.”

“I agree.” Blaine replied. “You guys have done an amazing job getting it to sound as good as this, and I can start drawing the sheet music up for the different sections this afternoon. I’ll need to stick around though so that I don’t disturb Wes’s study session.”

“We can stay with you if you like.” Grant said with a smile. “Dan and I can both sight read, and play by ear, so although we probably won’t be as quick as you, we can help with a couple of the parts.”

“That would be great.” Blaine replied with a grin. “Thanks guys.”

“Okay, so that is sent.” Evan said from the desk. “Wes, David and Nick should all have received a copy and I’ve sent one to Lewin’s staff email, just in case.”

“Yeah.” Ethan said with a snort. “As if we ever see the guy.”

“It’s good, in a way.” Blaine replied thoughtfully. “It’s better to not see him than to have a sponsor who dictates everything. At least the council run things fairly.”

“There is that.” Daniel replied. “That Hummel guy was bitching to me about his club back at McKinley, saying that their teacher barely lets them do anything but Journey and show-tunes.”

“Can we not talk about Kurt?” Blaine asked with a grimace. “Please?”

“Sorry Anderson. I forgot you were close.”

“We’re not anymore.” Blaine replied. “He said some stuff a couple of weeks back, and looking at what happened between us I can now see that it wasn’t healthy. I had to talk to his dad about giving him the sex talk for Christ’s sake.”

“Wow, that’s rough man.” Evan replied with a grimace. “Isn’t the guy like your age?”

“Yeah, I’m older by a couple of months, but still…”

“What happened between the two of you, if you don’t mind us asking of course?” Grant asked. “There have been the odd rumours but no one knows the whole story.”

“I kind of don’t want this spreading around.” He started nervously.

“Hey dude, you can trust us.” Daniel replied. “We may look like a pair of douchebags, but we know when to keep our mouths shut.” Blaine looked at Beat who just shrugged as if to say; ‘ _It’s your choice_ ’, and he decided that honesty was going to be the best policy.

“He got a little jealous with the fact that I was having so many solos.” He started. “I understand it, I know that some of you guys get frustrated as well, but like you said, we were close, and it kind of sent me down a bit of a dark road. Wes stepped in and asked him to forward any further complaints on to the council directly, and Kurt didn’t take the warning too well.”

“I was in the dining hall that morning.” Evan admitted. “I didn’t hear all of it, but you looked as though you were ready to throw up.”

“He triggered something.” Blaine replied quietly. “I don’t remember much of it, but he brought up the fact that I was obviously repeating a year, and it dragged memories to the surface.”

“You don’t have to tell us anymore if you don’t want to.” Beat said gently, throwing a look at the other four boys.

“No, it’s okay.” Blaine replied, taking a deep breath and mustering up a smile. “It feels good to talk about it to you guys. I love the Wes and the others, but they’re hardly impartial and I have to listen to them complain about Kurt’s shortcomings. This is good.”

“We’re not forcing you to tell us Anderson.” Grant replied. “We’ve heard enough to get a good idea of what went down.”

“Well, that was it mostly. The guys got overprotective of me and I started to feel suffocated. I ended up going to McKinley with Kurt to watch his old glee club do a night of neglect last weekend, but he got into an argument with Wes on Tuesday morning, and I was already suffering from a migraine. I think one of the guys told him the full story of what happened to me, because he hasn’t approached me since. I feel kind of guilty, David and Thad can get a little intense at times, and Trent is practically the Godfather. I can only imagine what they put Kurt through.”

“You have nothing to feel guilty for.” Evan replied, the other’s nodding along in agreement. “We all saw that something was off with Hummel. No one can be that big of a diva and not be a bitch at the same time. We should have had your back. He’d been bitching a lot about how the Warblers was getting ran by the council.”

“And the fact that we have to wear uniforms.” Daniel added.

“And the fact that we have a curfew.” Grant butted in.

“He bitched a lot, if we’re honest, and I think getting put in his place by our seniors was a long time coming.” Ethan replied. “And don’t get me started on the rant he went off on about bisexuality.”

“Wait what?” Blaine asked in shock; his eyebrows going up. Why had he not heard anything about this?

“Yeah, he butted into a conversation between a couple of guys in my year.” Evan said with a nod. “Lucian was talking with Vincent about how his sister had just come out as bi to their parents, and Hummel went off on a huge rant about how bisexuals didn’t exist, and they were just gays who were too scared to come out of the closet. When Lucian promptly told him that his sister had previously identified as gay, and was proud of who she was, he said something about her tiptoeing back into said closet. I thought Vinnie was going to deck him; his younger brother is struggling with his own sexuality as well, hence the pair of them talking.”

“When was this?” Blaine asked, a sick feeling taking over.

“A few weeks ago, just before we had that emergency meeting about being sexy.” Evan replied.

“Are you okay?” Beat asked. “You’ve gone slightly pale.”

“I’m so sorry.” Blaine whispered. “I didn’t think it would lead to anything like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Evan asked.

“I went to a party that week. I got a bit drunk and ended up making out with a girl over a stupid game of spin the bottle. I spent the whole week questioning everything, and I had a fight with Kurt over the same thing he said to your friends. It was stupid, and Trent grounded me for the weekend, partly for drinking and worrying Wes so much, and partly so he could help me work through my feelings. I never thought he’d go off like that at anyone.”

“Blaine this wasn’t your fault.” Beat said softly. “You can’t help how you feel, and I wish I was as comfortable and as certain about myself as you are. You’re allowed to question though, and Hummel was totally in the wrong about this.”

“Oh, he paid the price all right.” Ethan replied with a nod. “Lucian and Vincent haven’t said two words to him since that day, and the story has spread to the Juniors as well, he pissed quite a few people off with that one.”

“How have I not heard about this?” Blaine asked faintly. “How could I have not known, or not _seen_?”

“Because like you said, you were close.” Evan replied; holding his hand up when Blaine went to interrupt. “No one kept this from you, but do you honestly think you would have believed any of us at the time? Besides, no one knew to approach you because we didn’t know you guys had the same argument.”

“I really _am_ oblivious, aren’t I?” He asked, shaking his head.

“We love you for it.” Ethan replied with a grin.

“Yeah, don’t worry Anderson.” Grant added in. “From now on we have your back, against dragons, girls and crazy exes alike.”

* * *

“They’ve sent the file over.” David said as his laptop pinged to show that he’d got mail. “Should we listen to it then take a bit of a break?”

“Yeah, we’re just about done here.” Nick replied. “All that’s really left for you to do is a shit-tonne of proofreading Wes, and you can do that whenever. Your desk is just about cleared now.”

“Thank sweet merciful Jesus.” Wes replied; his head hitting his desk. “I thought it didn’t have an end.”

“I told you we got you.” David replied. “Many hands make light work, and all we’ve done is type stuff up for you.”

“Now you can graduate and come to Princeton with me.” Thad butted in with a smile. “No reason for you to stay.”

“Okay, enough of that thank you.” Trent replied, cutting off that conversation before it could go any further. He still wasn’t totally convinced that Wes had binned off that particular plan, and he didn’t want to spark a debate over it. “Let’s just hear the track and then I’m going down to the kitchens.”

“Two days in a row?” Jeff asked with a smirk. “Damn Nixon you have some moves.”

“More than you do.” His boyfriend butted in, the rest of the boys falling about in laughter. Trent rolled his eyes at their antics and reached over Wes’s shoulder to click on the file Lindley had sent them. They all fell silent as the sound of voices filled the room, and they all inhaled gasps when Blaine started to sing. Wes and Jeff had heard the track the day before, but the rest of them had decided to wait until it was finished before listening to it. Well, apart from Thad; who had been banned from going anywhere near the desk by Evan.

Trent could feel his chest tighten at the amount of pure emotion Blaine had obviously poured into the song, and he knew that the lyrics must have had an effect on Wes. Devon had written this in the midst of an argument, and he was basically telling his story from his own point of view. It was breath taking, worrying and uplifting all at the same time, and Trent didn’t know quite what to make of it. None of them did.

“That was amazing.” Nick breathed as the last chorus faded away. “We’re doing that for Nationals right?”

“Damn straight we are.” Thad replied. “If he puts that much emotion into it on the stage, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Wes, say something.” Trent whispered, rubbing the boy’s shoulder gently.

“I asked him to fight me.” Was the answer. “I asked him to take his frustration out on me in the ring. But listening to that… It’s practically a fight in itself.”

“I thought it sounded uplifting.” Nick replied with a shrug. “It sounded hopeful.”

“Father has spoken? Between Heaven and Hell? The sound of a fight? Who do you think that’s directed at?” Wes growled; standing up and brushing Trent’s hand off his shoulder. “I’ve hurt him that badly we can’t seem to make it past small talk. I thought it was getting better but last night we just crawled into bed with barely a word to each other. This isn’t okay.”

“Wes stop.” Trent barked sharply. He got up and put his hands on his friend’s shoulders; levelling him with a glare. “You have to stop doing this to yourself. You need to ask yourself why you want to go a few rounds with Devon. Is it to help him? Or is it a way for you to punish _yourself_? You both would have been exhausted yesterday, you can’t expect to have full blown therapy sessions every night. You didn’t before all this went down, and it’s not fair for you to expect it from either of you now.”

“I miss him.” Wes whispered hollowly. “I miss him being able to talk to me without watching what he’s saying. That right there is the most honest I’ve heard him in days.” He pointed to the computer where the track had started to repeat and they all sat and listened to it for a second time in silence.

When it started a third time, Trent moved to turn it off; knowing that they had all heard what Wes was trying to tell them. It wasn’t a new thing, to listen to Blaine pour his heart out in song. The biggest outlet for his emotions had always been music, and when he went for it, the results always boarded on the spectacular. But something about this one was different, and maybe Wes was right; this _was_ Blaine’s fight song. The fighter they all knew, but depicted in four minutes of raw, emotional composition.

“I just to have a normal conversation with him; about some movie or other, about what comic book he’s reading or which stupid meme made him laugh this past week. I want things to go back to before the fucking nightmare the last few weeks have been. I want my little brother back.”

None of them could help themselves when they basically tackled Wes into a group hug. They all knew how hard the last month had been on him and Trent, and he looked so defeated that they all privately swore to do better. It was the same promise they’d made time and time again; but in the end, it always came down to the two of them to look after Blaine.

They had to do better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am building what is effectively a new court for Blaine. With a Prince already in place, and several candidates to fill the positions of Knights and Rooks, he will soon have the support system he needs. Hang in there guys, the story will start moving quickly very soon.


	29. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will start picking back up now everyone, so there may be a few time jumps after this chapter. If anyone has any questions or starts getting confused, please let me know. I try to write things in order, but sometimes my brain doesn't work that way. Anyway, on with the show!

Monday morning rolled around far too quickly for everyone’s liking. Trent bounced into Wes and Blaine’s dorm at seven, equipped with coffee and toast (you’ve _both_ been eating too much sugar); and followed by Beat, who was obviously eager to start the new week. Nothing had changed between the two roommates; and instead, the senior was giving it a few days to see if they could settle into a new normal. They couldn’t change what had happened, only their attitudes towards it, and he was hoping that by forcing himself to relax; Blaine would follow suit. He had a pile of homework to distribute out, having proofread over half of it before bed the previous night, and he was starting to feel a lot better about the situation than he had the same time last week.

He was still unsure on what he wanted to do, taking a gap year was tempting, but Blaine’s reaction to the suggestion meant that he had to be very careful on how he went about it. He felt guilty that amongst everything else that happened over the weekend, Thad’s news about Princeton had gotten a little lost in the mix. He’d known that the other senior had applied to three colleges, but Princeton had been the one he’d wanted, and he was excited for his friend. With them all scattering after the summer he vowed to himself that they would make things right between the seven of them before they left. Blaine had been doing so well before the gelfling had come along, and he was desperate to try and fix things before they could spiral any further.

Little did he know, that dinner time was going to bring a welcome surprise their way. One that would go a long way to start the healing process.

“I need to talk to you.” The blue-eyed boy said, crossing his arms defensively as he was glared at by most of the people on the table. He’d been trying all day to catch Blaine on his own, but it was as though the other boy had acquired a full guard of honour. He’d been forced to take drastic action and approach him at dinner; it was just unfortunate that it meant approaching the seniors and Windsor.

“If you don’t mind, I’m eating dinner.” Blaine replied coolly. “Perhaps we can talk later, right now I would very much like to carry on my conversation with Trent.” Wes could have patted the younger boy on the back for that one. It seemed as though something had shifted in Blaine’s perception of Kurt Hummel.

“It’s important.” Kurt huffed out, his jaw setting and his teeth grinding together.

“Then it deserves my full attention.” Blaine replied. “And right now, I cannot give it. We’re in the middle of something here, so I would very much appreciate it if you could leave. You will be able to find me in the gym after seven tonight, it will be quiet so we can talk then. Now please excuse us.” Blaine turned his attention from Kurt and back to Trent, continuing their previous conversation about his French finals and therefore dismissing the boy out of hand. Luckily for the whole table; Evan chose that moment to interrupt them all, bouncing over without so much as a glance in Kurt’s direction.

“Blaine, I have good news!” He said; quickly greeting the table before dragging a spare chair up and squeezing himself in between Blaine and Trent. “The guys managed to finish scribing the last two parts.” Kurt’s nose was put even more out of joint as Blaine struck up a lively conversation with the freshman, totally ignoring the fact that he was still stood there.

“I think you should leave.” David muttered lowly to Kurt; making sure he was not overheard by Blaine. “Before you cause an eruption that none of us will be able to contain. He’s told you he’ll see you later, now please _go_.” Kurt growled and shook his head.

“No, I’m not going away until you’ve heard me out.” He said loudly; catching not just Blaine’s attention, but the attention of several surrounding tables. “At least give me that much.”

“Kurt…” Blaine said warningly; standing up and raising his hands in surrender at the younger boy’s anger. “Now is certainly not the place or the time. Please leave us alone.”

“Not until you’ve given me a chance to apologise.” Blaine’s eyebrows were not the only ones raised at that. Wes seemed to be flitting between anger and shock, Trent had gone into full on fury mode and Thad, David and Niff looked about ready to disembowel the Junior.

“Apologise for _what_ exactly?” Blaine asked coldly; his own fury rising to the surface. “The hateful bile you decided to unload on me three weeks ago? The fact that when we went to your glee club’s show, you basically hid behind me when that jock came after you?” That was news to the rest of the table, and it was a conversation Wes would _definitely_ be having with his roommate. “Or what about the fact that even after our argument about it, you decided to upset my friends with your bigoted views on bisexuality?” Blaine’s face was set hard, his jaw jutting out and his eyes; cold.

“Blaine…”

“Shut up Kurt, I’m not finished talking.” He spat and Thad surreptitiously gave David a fist bump, evidently proud at the way Blaine was standing up for himself. “You have done nothing the last few weeks but make every effort to cut me down. I don’t why, but you have made me feel really bad about myself. The way you went off on me about a stupid kiss and a crummy date, the way you shouted at me the other week instead of just coming to talk to me. I’ve spent the last fortnight trying to understand, and now you are asking for forgiveness? We’ll I’m not willing to listen any more than you were when I tried to talk to you. Please leave me and my friends alone, or I will be reporting you to the headmaster for harassment.”

“Go right ahead because I’m leaving.” Kurt ground out; stopping the older boy in his tracks. “I’m going back to McKinley.” Something crossed Blaine’s face at that. He hadn’t wanted to chase Kurt out of Dalton.

“Is that safe?” Trent asked; pushing down his anger because he knew that this was going to cause Blaine’s thoughts to spiral in the same direction.

“I have to _try_.” Kurt replied. “I just wanted the chance to apologise before my dad came to pick me up tonight. Obviously, you aren’t prepared to hear me out, so I guess this is goodbye.” He turned on his heel and stalked off leaving a group of shocked seniors, a pair of worried sophomores and one very confused freshman.

* * *

Blaine grunted as he hit the bag; his wrist smarting slightly from poor technique. Wes had been reluctant to let him train, after what had happened the last time, but most of the bruising in his hands had gone, and he had needed to punch something all day. The admittance from Kurt at dinner had thrown him, and despite his anger at the younger boy, he didn’t want to see Kurt in danger. The whole situation had left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was sure that his friends had felt the same.

“So, this is the reason for the rumours.” He jumped at the unexpected intrusion and his hands went up to his face instinctively. He relaxed when he saw who it was and dropped his gloves.

“It is rude to sneak.” He said; turning back to the bag. “What do you want Kurt?” He asked between punches.

“To say a proper goodbye.”

“You said one, two hours ago.”

“You wouldn’t listen…”

“Is there any wonder?” He snapped; giving the bag one last forceful punch before rounding on the boy. “Don’t think I don’t know how you see me. Don’t think for a second that I am as blind as I appear. You _hurt_ me Kurt. And the only reason I went for coffee with you was to stick two fingers up to Wes. But he was right, you aren’t good for me, and I wish I’d listened to him sooner.”

“Don’t make this about him…”

“You aren’t listening, are you? I’m making this about _me_. For the first time in a very long time I’m doing something for myself, and that something is this; get out of my life Kurt, go back to McKinley. Go back to your friends and leave me alone, because despite what I show the world; I’m a mess, and I need time to process everything that’s happened. You need to respect that, otherwise you’ll find yourself in more trouble than you will know how to handle.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning. You have seen for yourself how protective they all are of me; do you honestly think that they’ll back off now that you are going? If you continue the way you have the past couple of weeks, then the chances are you’ll find yourself in trouble.”

“You let them control your life” Kurt snapped. “Don’t you see what they are doing to you? Don’t you see how suffocated you are here? Come with me. Come to McKinley, let me show you something different.”

“What like how to end up back in a coma?” Blaine shouted; his control finally snapping and dark thoughts starting to creep into his head. “You want me to leave a place where I’m safe, to go somewhere I could end up back in hospital? How fucking delusional are you to ask me something like that? Do you think I’m here because I _want_ to be? Do you think that the last two years have been me living my best fucking life? I had _friends_. I had a _future_.”

“And you can have all of that again.” Kurt argued. “As soon as you stop kidding yourself that these people care for you.”

“You don’t get how much I’ve lost!” Blaine’s voice cracked at the end and Kurt took a step backwards, fear finally starting to flutter in his stomach. “You can _never_ understand. I was in a coma for five fucking months. Do you think I can just go back to what I was before? You think I haven’t _tried_? I _can’t_ be fixed.”

“You don’t need to be fixed.” Kurt said; his eyes wide as he shook his head. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Except the fact that I hog the limelight?” Blaine snarled. “Except the fact that I’m a high baller who goes running to mummy? Or the fact that I’m repeating a year? Or what about the fact that I could be questioning my sexuality, or how was it you put it; tiptoeing back into the closet? You have made your position quite clear Kurt, and I _don’t_ want anything to do with you. We’re done do you hear me? For you to even suggest I go back…” He shook his head to try and push away the memories. He unstrapped his gloves and unwound the tape from his hands. He needed a shower and a bottle of water.

“Kurt?” Burt appeared in the doorway and Blaine felt like he was going to be sick. “We have to go.”

“Leave Kurt.” Blaine said coldly. “And don’t come back.” The younger boy’s shoulders dropped and he turned to leave; throwing one last look over his shoulder.

“I’ll catch you up.” Burt said softly; reaching out to grip his son’s shoulder as he went past. “Give us a minute.” Blain watched Kurt go and fearfully looked over to Burt, flinching back under the man’s gaze. He had respect for Burt, he at least cared about his son. “Are you okay kid?” He asked softly.

“I’m sorry I shouted.” Was the first thing out of his mouth. Burt sighed and stepped into the gym, closing the doors behind him. “I’m sorry.” He repeated, backing himself against the wall.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Burt said, keeping his voice soft. “Do you need me to get someone? You don’t look too great.” And wasn’t _that_ the truth? Blaine was practically grey, slouched against the wall, covered in sweat and his hands were trembling slightly.

“I’ll be okay.” Was the shaky reply.

“Look Blaine, I don’t know what’s gone off between the two of you, but I don’t want to see _either_ of you hurting, if there is anything I can do to help…”

“I have help.” Blaine cut off. “I’m okay Mr. Hummel.”

“Please call my Burt.” Was his reply. “I mean what I say though, anything and at any time, just say the word.” Blaine nodded and thanked him. Burt turned to go but he needed more answers.

“Will he be safe?” He asked.

“He wouldn’t be leaving here if he wasn’t.” Burt replied.

“What about Karofsky?”

“He’ll be safe, Blaine. Like I said, I wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.”

“Look after him.” Was Blaine’s quiet reply. “Don’t let them give him hell.” Burt nodded once and then he was gone, leaving the empty gym in an oppressive silence.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Wes asked quietly as his roommate appeared to read his page for the third time.

“I’m fine.” Was the pinched reply, and Blaine noted something down in a workbook before flipping the page.

“Are you sure? Because you’re awfully quiet.”

“I said I’m fine.” It was maybe a little harsher than he’d intended, but it had the desired effect of making Wes shut up. He decided he wouldn’t get much more work done whilst his head was in this state, and he shut the book and checked the time. “I’m going for a walk.” He said; getting up from his desk and slipping on a pair of sneakers and a hoodie.

“But it’s almost half nine.” Wes protested with large eyes.

“I’ll be back before ten.” He vowed. “I just need a break.” He slipped out of the dorm, not even bothering to pick his key up; knowing that if he was any later than ten, Wes would come looking for him anyway. He wandered down the stairs and found himself back in the Warbler commons.

Everything always seemed to lead him back here; as though he was tied to this room by an invisible tether. It was where Wes had found him three weeks ago. It was where they’d had their argument the previous week. It was where they had brought him after his breakdown. Why then did he feel so much like a stranger? Something had changed over the last three weeks.

Something big.

He couldn’t work it out and it was starting to frustrate him. He was the same person he had been a month ago. Sure, he’d been getting less sleep, and he’d ended up in a mess with his roommate, but there was something else. Never, since joining Dalton; had he bonded so much with his classmates, and the rest of the Warblers around him. He had Beat, and Pike and Lindley had started to become friends. Hell, he could even dare to say that he and Logan were on amicable terms, so where did this sense of disconnection come from?

He ran his fingers down the keys of the piano but couldn’t bring himself to break the silence. He sat there for what felt like hours, staring down at the keyboard his mind; blank. He finally moved from the piano to lay down on one of the sofas; staring up at the ceiling as he thought over what had happened with Kurt.

He hoped that he hadn’t left because of how he had been treated, but he couldn’t get the disgusting thought out of his head. Had they bullied him back to McKinley? What if something happened? It would be their fault for not giving him a chance. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, and the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by Trent.

“D, wake up.”

“I’m awake.” He mumbled; sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“You told Wes you’d be back by ten.” Trent said worriedly. “And, you promised not to sleep here anymore.”

“Didn’t mean to.” He muttered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” Trent said, not unlike Wes had done three weeks ago. “Talk to me Devon.”

“Did we bully Kurt out of Dalton?” He whispered; tears stinging his eyes as he voiced the one thing he’d been stressing over since dinner.

“Oh D.” Trent sighed; sitting down next to him and pulling him into a hug. “ _You_ haven’t done anything wrong.” He said softly. “Were the rest of us a little heavy handed? Maybe. But Kurt hasn’t really endeared himself to the rest of the school’s populace either.”

“He asked me to go with him.”

“He _what_?” Trent hissed angrily. “Is he out of his fucking _mind_?” Blaine flinched at the venom in Trent’s voice; and the older boy seemed to know exactly what he’d done.

“I’m sorry D, I’m not angry at you.” Blaine grimaced at that and forced himself to relax into Trent’s side; reminding himself that this was _Trent_ , and that he was safe.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to him. He was in the wrong about a lot of things, but I still want him to be safe.”

“Of course, you do.” The older boy replied. “That’s something we all want. Were we happy about how he treated you? No, we weren’t, but none of us want to see anyone hurt.”

“His dad was here. Kurt came to see me whilst I was at the gym and we had an argument. I think his dad heard a lot of it. He must hate me.”

“I think it’s impossible for anyone to hate you D.” Trent replied gently.

“I just can’t stop thinking that this is my fault. I should never have gotten involved. I was doing okay, I was getting better, and I should have protected myself. I’m sorry for what I’ve put you both through these last couple of weeks.”

“Never mind that.” Trent said; waving him off. “That’s what we’re here for. But you have to stop blaming yourself for this. And _especially_ for Kurt going back to McKinley, that was something out of your control. Now please let me take you back upstairs to Wes, he’s really worried about you.” Blaine nodded and allowed the other boy to lead him back up to the dorm.

Wes greeted him with a hug; not even commenting on the fact that he was late back to the dorm and he hushed him when he went to apologise; settling him on his bed, pushing a mug of rooibos tea into his hands with a small smile. No words were needed between the two of them; as always Wes had understood completely, and they were soon tucked into their respective beds.

“Thank you.” He whispered into the darkness.

“You’re welcome Devon.” Was Wes’s reply and the both of them slipped off to sleep minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Sebastian is on his way, but we had to say goodbye to someone else first. Three cheers for the banishment of mutant gelflings!


	30. From Paris with Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's Here!!!!!!

The rest of the week had passed comfortably, if nothing else. Blaine had suffered a nightmare on the Tuesday, but Wes had been right there with him, holding on to him and talking to him quietly to help ground him back in reality. Beat had been sticking by his side all week, and with the introduction of both Ethan and Evan into his confidence, the four became a familiar sight throughout the corridors. The practice for Nationals was going well; auditions having been scheduled for Friday night for the solos, and Blaine had been working on yet another arrangement for their final number; one which Beat seemed very excited about.

“I don’t see why you have to keep it as this big mystery.” Evan grumbled as the pair made their way to lunch on the Friday. “We helped you with the first song.”

“I know you did.” Blaine soothed. “And I am really grateful for that help, but this one isn’t about me. It’s about Beat, and I need to know that he’s comfortable before the pair of us hand it over to the council. I’m hoping that by tomorrow night we’ll be ready to roll with it.”

“Well I would still like a look at it before you do.” The younger boy grumbled; crossing his arms. “I want to play in your brain.” Blaine chuckled at that. It wasn’t the first time the boy had said it, it wasn’t even the second. Evan had decided that he was some kind of musical genius, and the boy had become a constant shadow, questioning him about his process, and how he knew something sounded good if he’d never actually heard it. Blaine didn’t have most of the answers to these questions, but their conversations were a nice change of pace.

“Excuse me?” Blaine looked up from Evan to catch sight of a tall, brown haired boy approaching the pair of them. He knew that he must have been a transfer, because he _definitely_ would have noticed him around school beforehand. If DC ever pulled their finger out and decided to cast a full series of the Flash; _this_ guy would _definitely_ get the part. He had a lean, sprinter’s figure but was well shouldered and had an air of confidence that even had Evan on edge. His _best_ feature however, were a pair of clear green eyes, that at the moment; were currently fixed firmly on him. “I seem to have gotten myself lost. I’m looking for the dining hall.”

“Oh, we’re heading that way now if you want to join us.” Evan chirped up from the side of him, and he felt a blush rise to his face when the taller boy’s eyes seemed to look him up and down. “I’m Evan Lindley.”

“Sebastian Smythe.” The tall boy replied; finally turning his eyes away from Blaine. “I admit that my attention may have wandered slightly during orientation, but to be fair, the boys who gave me it, were a little too invested in pointing out the best spots for make out sessions.” Evan snorted at that and Blaine could feel his blush deepen when the other boy’s eyes were firmly back on him.

“And who might you be?”

“Blaine Anderson.” He said; holding out his hand and hoping he was coming across more confident than he felt. He was making a damn fool of himself in the middle of a school corridor.

“So, you are the one my cousin never shuts up about.” Sebastian stated rather than asked; another easy smirk coming to his face. “He mentioned you were good looking, but damn Killer.” Blaine’s blush was back in full force and Evan felt it was time to rescue his poor friend from his predicament.

“Come on Seb, lunch is this way.” And he grabbed Blaine’s arm; dragging him towards the dining hall, motioning for the other boy to follow them. By the time they were seated at what had now become their usual table; Blaine was just about back in control.

“So, are you a freshman?” He asked; mentally berating himself the moment that he’d asked. ‘ _Damn it, Anderson you’ve already concluded that he’s a transfer, now focus!’_

“Do I look like a freshman?” Sebastian asked, his eyebrow raising in a way that was much too sexy to be innocent. Evan snorted into his juice and Blaine threw the _actual_ freshman a filthy look. Beat’s arrival saved him from further embarrassment, and the small boy promptly sat himself down next to Sebastian and folded his arms.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” He said, much to the shock of the other two. “So whatever instructions Uncle Phil gave you, you can forget them.”

“So good to see you too Shortcake.” Sebastian replied with another grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, laugh it up whilst you still can, you won’t be doing so when I trip you on the field.”

“Dalton has a lacrosse team?” The tall boy asked, his eyebrows shooting up again before a more pressing concern passed through his brain. “Wait, _you’re_ on the lacrosse team? Who the hell signed off on you endangering yourself amongst guys ten times your size for most of the year?”

“First of all, I’m an _excellent_ middie and you know it. Second of all, I _don’t_ need a babysitter. I won’t tell you again Stan, you are _not_ here to take over my life.”

“Okay, okay!” The older boy said; throwing his hands up in defence. “I get it jeez.”

“So, your cousin is Beat?” Blaine asked; kicking himself again for stating the obvious.

“Beat? Where did they find that one?” Sebastian asked, turning back to the boy in question who merely glared at him. “Yeah, Strawberry Shortcake here is my one and only. His mom is my dad’s sister.”

“So, about you never shutting up about Blaine?” Evan asked; wiggling his eyebrows, much to the disgust of the rest of the table’s occupants.

“Oh my God no, not like that!” Beat said; throwing his hands out towards Blaine. “I swear Devon…”

“So, this _isn’t_ the Blaine you described as ‘ _sex on a stick, and sings like a dream_ ’?” Sebastian asked.

“I swear I’m going to kill you.” The younger boy responded; going red. “I’m going to knock you out with your lacrosse stick and then disembowel you with a fucking spoon if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth right now.” Sebastian just laughed at that, fully used to his younger cousin’s rants.

“I was kidding.” He said; shaking his head. “Jeez Shortcake what have they been teaching you at this school?” Beat muttered something in French that Blaine didn’t quite catch and to his surprise Sebastian answered back; and _damn_ if it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.

“You are staring.” Evan whispered in his ear as the pair of cousins struck up an argument in full French. He blushed and ducked his head; trying to ignore the laughter from the freshman at the side of him.

* * *

“Did you know he was here already?” Nick asked as he caught up with Trent on their way to History.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” Trent replied. “Start again, and use your _words_ Nicholas.” Nick glared at him and caught hold of his hand; pulling him into an alcove.

“I’m talking about Smythe.” He said testily. “Do you think Jeff and I are stupid? We gave him his orientation this morning and it took us all of three seconds to work out who he was. I don’t like him Trent, he looks dangerous.”

“I promise you that Seb is a sweetheart.” Trent replied softly. “Like me.” He said that with a wide grin that was anything but innocent and Nick shook his head; practically growling with frustration.

“He’s _nothing_ like you. He is cocky, and smart mouthed and it will take Blaine all of a minute to be fucking besotted with the guy.” Trent grimaced and conceded that Nick might have a point about that.

“You just have to trust me.” He said. “I know what I’m doing. Seb is very protective of Beat, and in turn, Beat has become very attached to D. I give it a week before Seb is pining after _him_. I promise you Nick that we can trust him, and if you are struggling with that, then please trust _me_.”

“Just how much do you have going on right now?” Nick hissed. “Between your own studies, and Blaine’s, The Warblers, Sebastian, Beat, not to mention whatever it is you and your parents are cooking up against the Andersons, which I promise you _won’t_ work. Don’t you think it’s reasonable for us to be questioning whether your decisions are sound at this moment in time?” Trent’s face went hard at that.

“You have never doubted me before now, and if I’ve given any reason for you to, I deserve to know. My faculties are all intact, I promise you that much, and if you have any _genuine_ reasons to believe otherwise then you better come out with them before we fall out. I have only ever had Devon’s best interests at heart, and I will do all that I can to see him graduate next year. Now we have to go before we’re late.” With that he stalked off, leaving a very sheepish Nick behind in the alcove.

Trent was fuming. Everything he was doing was for the welfare of one person, and one person only; and to have Nick of all people question that was hard for him to swallow. None of them understood, except perhaps for Wes; that this last month had been a cakewalk compared to Blaine’s first year at Dalton. Blaine had been a mess; Wes had been struggling to cope; and Trent had shielded the rest of them from more than they could comprehend. All that time he’d been supporting his own freshman roommate _and_ searching for an answer to Blaine’s living situation.

This didn’t even compare.

He glared at Nick, who was the last to enter the classroom with a bowed head and apologetic eyes. The dark-haired boy sat next to Jeff; and Trent rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

“Are you okay?” Wes asked from the side of him. He nodded and the subject was dropped in favour of trying to find the will to listen to Harvey drone on for the next hour. None of them could understand the differences between the music and history teachers. Despite being brothers; the disparities were startling, and a point of gossip amongst the lower years. The seniors however had just learnt to go with it by that point in their schooling; knowing that it was an impossible question that would never be answered.

* * *

Sebastian grunted as he hefted his last case up the front steps. Most of his things had been dropped off the previous night, but his mother had insisted on him bringing one more case than he thought necessary; and he’d vowed to leave it in the car to prove a point. Until he realised that it contained his sport’s kit, sneakers and his beloved Xbox. By the time he’d made this discovery; it had been after ten and the jet lag that he refused to acknowledge had finally got to him; so here he was, at five in the evening, trying to carry the damn thing up the antique winding staircase; without damaging anything.

A bell went off and he let out a startled yelp as bodies appeared from both ends of the staircase; rushing past him and shouting loudly. His foot slipped and he almost went flying; until a hand reached out and caught his; pulling him up the stairs whilst his case was taken out of his hands by another boy. He kept a tight grip on the hand; not even being awarded with the chance to sight his saviour as they battled their way through the madness. Finally, they reached the top of the stairs and he was pulled off to one side, before his hand was dropped. He looked to the boy it had belonged to and found him doubled over; breathing heavily.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Blaine Anderson shouted with wide, brown eyes when he finally caught his breath. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Here.” Said another boy, handing him his case; looking rather unruffled considering he’d just hefted forty-pounds of luggage up a staircase covered in bodies. “It’s all intact.”

“What the hell was that?” Was the first thing out of his mouth.

“Dinner rush.”

“Who the fuck did your orientation this morning?” Blaine asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, a couple of seniors who introduced themselves collectively as Niff.”

“I’m going to fucking kill the pair of them.” Blaine snarled as the other boy broke down in laughter.

“I’m Ethan.” The boy said; holding his hand out to shake as Blaine started to pace, muttering obscenities. “Don’t mind the local wildlife, he hadn’t meant to get caught in that either.” He gestured to Blaine who flipped him the bird.

“This is your fucking fault Pike. You and Lindley are trying to kill me.” Ethan laughed again and shook his head.

“Don’t be so dramatic. You love us really.”

“You sent me a fucking 911 text when I was the other end of the building. Do you realise how many things I almost knocked over, just for you both to tell me it was a false alarm?”

“It’s not our fault!” Ethan defended; ignoring Sebastian who looked like he was watching a tennis match; turning his head between them with huge eyes. “Grant said he saw Logan practically stalking Dan. What were we supposed to think?” Blaine muttered more obscenities before turning to Sebastian with dark eyes.

“Where are you rooming?” He asked.

“I have no idea how to explain.” Was the reply; Sebastian gathering himself quickly. “But thanks for the save on the stairs.” Blaine nodded at that.

“Do you need help the rest of the way?”

“No, I got it, thank you though.”

“We have to go or we’re going to be late.” Ethan said, checking his watch. “Wes will have my head if he finds out I almost got you crushed.”

“A bit late for that thought _now_.” Blaine replied darkly. “See you around Sebastian.” He turned and practically dragged Ethan into the mass of bodies that where still circling around the staircase and Sebastian couldn’t help but think that this was going to be a brilliant year.

* * *

“Order, order!” Wes shouted banging his gavel. “Please gentlemen, conduct yourselves with some modicum of decorum.”

“A lot of big words there for you.” David muttered at the side of him; receiving a glare for his sass.

“The council understands that weekends are precious, but we are now only four weeks away from nationals and we only have one song.”

“Two, actually.” Beat said from the back; shocking the room into instant silence. “With the permission of the council, I would like to submit a collaborative arrangement, that would solve the problem of our final piece. It’s not a mash up, it’s an original, but it has the potential to showcase as many voices as the council wants to cram in. The only problem would be the choreography, because this piece would turn the entire team into my personal drum-kit.”

“Like Anderson mentioned last Monday.” Logan replied with a nod.

“Okay Beat, I’ll bite.” Wes said; sitting back in his chair. “Just what have the pair of you been up to?”

“This.” Blaine replied; passing sheets around the rest of the guys before handing a copy to Wes. “It still needs tweaking slightly but this is about the scope of it. Beat’s right though, the choreography is going to be a bitch.”

“Can this even be done?” David asked, looking over Wes’s shoulder at the sheets.

“I don’t know.” Was the other boy’s reply. “But fuck it, if we’re going to Nationals then let’s go to win. All in favour?” The decision was unanimous, and Wes banged the gavel to show that the motion had passed. “Very well then, Junior member Windsor, I’d like you to run with this, but it _does_ mean that this weekend is definitely off the cards. We’re going to need all the practise we can get, if we’re going to pull this off, so cancel your plans and be here for eight tomorrow morning.” There were less arguments now; as the whole team were focused on the sheets that had been handed to them. “Before we break for the night, we need to settle the second solo, so will all those wishing to audition please step out to prepare.”

“Are you sure that this is a good idea right now?” Nick asked as Logan, Ethan, Trent and Jeff stepped out of the commons. “Their minds are elsewhere right now.”

“This needs doing tonight or we’ll end up with a two-song set.” Wes muttered. “If Blaine’s two compositions are going to be a nightmare then I’d rather get a jump on the backing for the solo.”

* * *

“And what do we have here?” Sebastian asked, leaning against the wall as he eyed the four boys up. “Sneakers?”

“Warblers.” Trent replied, smiling at the other boy. “It’s good to see you Seb.” He held out his hand for Sebastian to shake, and the boy did so with a small smile and a nod of respect. Suddenly the doors crashed open and Blaine appeared in the corridor; his hair ruffled and his blazer askew.

“What the hell is going on in there?” Logan asked with wide eyes.

“Grant, Daniel and Evan threw me out and told me to get ready.” Blaine replied with dark eyes as he straightened himself out. “Because they’re assholes who don’t know the meaning of no.”

“You’re auditioning?” Ethan asked with huge eyes.

“No, I’m going up to the dorm early. I wish no part in this kangaroo court. I have my solo, and I’m helping Beat with the final arrangement. I have enough on my plate as it is. Not to mention it’s about time someone else got a chance for a change.”

“Wes will murder you if you disappear.” Trent warned from the side of Sebastian.

“Yeah, just sing ‘Don’t cry for me Argentina’ and completely bomb it instead.” Logan replied with a grin.

“First of all, no.” Ethan replied, crossing his arms as Blaine seemed to consider it. “I’m not letting you ruin your voice days before Evan finally get you back in the booth. I wouldn’t hear the end of it. And, second of all; only an idiot would audition with that song, and Blaine has more class than that.”

“You really should stick around.” Jeff said with a nod. “Just pull something from your huge repertoire and run with it, because I have no desire to listen to Nick bitch all night.”

“Fine.” Blaine replied with a huff. “I’ll sing, but I’m not happy about this, and I want you guys to get first shot. Like I said, I have enough on.”

“Wanna watch?” Trent asked Sebastian with mischievous eyes. “I’m sure we could sneak you in.”

“I am perfectly capable of sneaking Nixon.” Sebastian replied. “Just watch.” With that he strode through the five of them and pressed his ear to the doors. As soon as he heard a small increase in chattering from inside, he slipped in; falling in behind Daniel and Grant and forcing himself to try to look inconspicuous.

“Right then, let’s have Trent first.” Wes said, nodding to Evan, who threw open the doors and asked for the senior. Sebastian watched; impressed as Trent gave a spectacular rendition of ‘What Kind of Fool’, doing complete justice to the legend of Streisand. And Trent smiled happily when he’d finished, thanking the group for their ears and bouncing over to him.

“I’m supposed to be incognito.” He hissed.

“Please, Wes will have clocked you the instant you stepped through the door. You’re still here because you are here for Devon.” Sebastian didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just glanced over to the head Warbler, who gave him a small nod.

It felt like acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trent's song is actually on the Warblers CD, Darren does amazing with it, but I figured it was more Trent's gig.
> 
> So, what do you guys think? Seb is finally here, and it's safe to say that Blaine is already smitten with the asshole. I couldn't stop grinning a certain parts of this chapter, I figured we could do with some more light hearted material. Consider this our turning point.


	31. Familial Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another light hearted chapter for you all. This will probably be my last update until after the weekend, I have another chapter already half finished, and another one plotted out, so fingers crossed I'll be back to regular scheduling on Monday. I'm taking the weekend off because I got a ticket to see Darren Criss; live on Looped tomorrow night, for his DEC.AID concert!!!! I'm so excited you guys, I thought I was going to be working for it, but it turns out I'm at home!
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter, see you all on Monday.

Well there was one thing he’d gotten right at least. Blaine Anderson _did_ have a voice. Although his performance was nothing like he’d expected. The younger boy had commandeered most of the furniture in the room for his lively version of a classic Disney song; and by the look on the council’s faces, he wasn’t the only one worrying about broken bones and sprained ankles. Blaine was bouncing from the coffee table to the sofa, then up onto the _back_ of the sofa, then all the way back down on to the coffee table, it was dizzying to watch.

“Who the fuck gave him caffeine?” Trent muttered under his breath as they watched Blaine, quite literally make a monkey out of himself.

“I take it this is not normal?” He asked back.

“Oh, it’s normal, but it’s usually contained to just the sofa. We had an _incident_.” Blaine finished his performance on the coffee table and the Warblers broke into a mixture of laughter and cheers at his rendition of ‘I Wanna be Like You’.

“Whilst that performance was… interesting.” Wes said, getting the guys to settle down; whilst not entirely being able to keep a straight face himself. “I’m not sure that it is quite the theme we are going for.”

“Then I would like to thank the council for the opportunity.” Blaine replied; bowing his head; and Sebastian could see his eyes sparkling with laughter. Because, _yes_ Sebastian was looking, and no, he hadn’t _stopped_ looking ever since the boy had bounced into the room.

“Then we are left with our four candidates; Senior Nixon, Senior Sterling, Sophomore Pike and Junior Wright. The box will be in here until tomorrow morning, please submit all votes before nine o’clock, this brings our meeting to an end. Please be here by eight, we have a long day tomorrow.” Wes banged the gavel and the group started to trickle out; most giving Blaine high fives or back pats for the show he’d put on. It took a few minutes but soon it was just the seniors, Sebastian, Blaine, Beat, Evan and Ethan, and Wes’s demeanour turned serious.

“What have I told you about the furniture?” He asked; rounding on Blaine; who had the decency to blush. “We barely made to the hospital wing _last_ time. Are you so insistent on spending Nationals on crutches?”

“It was just a sprain.” Was the boy’s reply as he rolled his eyes. “I was fine after like a week.”

“That’s not the point Devon Anderson.” Wes growled. “Next time it could be a broken bone, and then we’d all be fucked. You’re precious cargo and I will not see you damaged by your own desperation to discover whether or not you can fly.” Sebastian couldn’t help himself; he burst into laughter at the bizarreness of the conversation, and soon found himself at the centre of attention.

“Sorry.” He said with a grin. “I’d blame the inhuman amount of caffeine I’ve had, but in truth this conversation is just a little on the crazy side for me.” Blaine beamed at him and he offered the smaller boy a high five; which was promptly accepted.

“Don’t encourage him.” Trent groaned; his hand coming up to rub his temple. “Wes wasn’t joking about the hospital wing.”

“I’m fine.” Blaine said; rolling his eyes again. “I didn’t fall and I managed to blow my audition well enough to appease Logan whilst still keeping this crazy happy.” He gestured to Evan who just grinned at him.

“Putting that aside, we’re here for a more serious discussion.” Thad reminded them, and they all soon sobered up; moving to spread out on the couches; Beat ending up practically in Blaine’s lap as he squeezed himself between the older boy and Trent. Sebastian threw him a characteristic eyebrow and he stuck two fingers up at his cousin, apologising quickly when Trent glared at him.

“We are here to discuss next year yes?” Blaine asked.

“That amongst other things.” Wes replied. “We promised you a full explanation, and you will get one.” Blaine grimaced at that and shook his head.

“If it’s all the same guys, I kind of just want to move on from what’s happened in the past month. Let’s just draw a line under it and not drag any of it back up.” Wes seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at that and Blaine knew that his roommate had been dreading the conversation. “We’re all okay, right?”

“We’re okay if you are Blaine.” David said gently. “All that is important here is that you are comfortable.”

“I’m not comfortable with some of what happened.” Blaine admitted. “Not yet. But I will be, and I promise you that there are no hard feelings. There are just some things I have to work through myself.”

“If you need to talk to any of us, you know that you can, right?” Nick asked. “Even if you are scared of upsetting us, it’s important that you come to us to work stuff out before you end up exploding like you did last week. None of us want to see you hurting, and the thought of you hurting over _us_ means that we will do anything in our powers to fix it.”

“I know. And I understand what you have all given me over the last two years. I know you have sacrificed so much, just to keep me sane and healthy; and I am more grateful than any of you can possibly know. Its just, as I’m working on becoming more aware, it’s getting more obvious that some of you are hiding things from me. I know that you think you’re shielding me from it all, but I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

“We know.” Wes replied. “And we really are sorry for what happened. I guess you have been progressing so quickly that we’ve struggled to keep up. I forget at times just how far you have come.”

“Then enough of that.” Trent said with a tone of finality. “Like you said, let’s draw a line and start afresh.” Sebastian now understood his presence here, he was the buffer between Blaine and the current seniors. The neutral party, the _distraction_.

“For those of you who are slow on the uptake, I’m Sebastian; Shortcake’s older cousin, and I transferred in this morning. I’m a junior, and I’m hoping to try out for the lacrosse team.” He said, trying to break some of the tension in the air.

“Can you sing?” Blaine asked and when he received a confused look; the younger boy elaborated. “Wes thinks I might end up on the council next year, and therefore it’s my duty to start seeking out new talent to fill some of the paces that will open up. With Nationals coming up it might be a bit of a stretch to get you up to speed now, but if you wanted to audition next year you would be more than welcome.” Sebastian was touched by the thoughtfulness of a boy he’d only met a few hours ago, and he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face.

“I can hold a tune.” He said with a nod, before pausing. “And I dance.” There was a slight colouring to his cheeks that suggested embarrassment, but no one was going to mention it.

“That’s great!” Blaine replied enthusiastically. “With Wes, David and Jeff all graduating, we’ll be down on dancers and choreographers. As long as you can hold a decent tune and can pitch match or harmonise, you’ll have no problems with auditions.”

“We’re getting off topic.” Thad reminded them and Blaine nodded.

“Right, so next year.”

“Are you still rooming with Beat?” Evan asked; glancing over to Sebastian. “Because you could always room with me if not.”

“We’re rooming together.” The other sophomore said with a glare at his cousin. “Stan and I would kill each other within the first week otherwise.”

“You love me really.”

“Douche.”

“Blaireau.”

“Really?”

“Tu es une vraie douleur dans mon cul.” Sebastian said with a smirk.

“And here we go.” Trent whispered to Blaine; rolling his eyes.

“Connais-tu ceci?”

“Connard.” Beat shot back

“Gingembre empilé court.”

“Okay that’s it!” The younger of the two cousins snapped; flying up off of the sofa and launching himself at a laughing Sebastian. It took the taller boy all of thirty seconds to have Beat trapped beneath him; his hands coming up to tickle the sophomore into submission. Trent chuckled at the wide eyes around the room.

“Just let them get it out of their system.” He said reassuringly; as Beat struggled free; running out of the room with Sebastian on his heels; both of them laughing and shrieking as their fight made its way deeper into the school. “They’ll be back in a bit.”

“You seem relatively unfazed.” Jeff remarked.

“I come from a family of cousins.” Trent replied with a shrug. “You should see my dad go at it with his crazy relatives. Uncle Bill once put the lot of them in time out when their wrestling match almost destroyed the yard.”

“How?” Blaine asked with wide eyes.

“It was my dad’s fortieth birthday and they managed to tip over the grill. It’s lucky that they’d forgotten to get the coal and were using propane, otherwise mother’s prized lawn would have been toast. Uncle Bill waded right in and pulled dad, uncle Charlie, uncle Andrew _and_ uncle Chris apart and made them sit on the stairs for half an hour.”

“Your family sounds awesome!” Blaine said with a huge grin. Trent chuckled at that and locked the boy in a head lock; rubbing his knuckles into his curls. “Not as awesome as I am.” He said; Blaine shrieking with laughter as he tried to pull away. The rest of the room looked on in both amazement and joy at how light and free Blaine appeared to be. The dark cloud that had been hanging over him for the last few weeks had gone, and happiness had taken over.

They swore not to let him down again.

* * *

Not much had been discussed after Sebastian and Beat’s disappearance. None of them had wanted to burst the bubble of happiness that surrounded their eldest sophomore, and so after half an hour of trying to get them all to focus; Thad gave up and dragged David out of the room to go and get changed so that they could pick up pizza. Blaine’s cry of ‘ _Pizza Party_!’ had them all laughing, and when the two cousins made a reappearance; Beat in a fireman’s lift over Sebastian’s shoulder; hitting his back and laughing all the time, they decided to wrap things up and get changed. Sebastian had promptly dumped his cousin in Trent’s lap before running off so that Beat couldn’t get retribution; his laughter audible at least two corridors away.

“At least it’s not going to be boring with them two around.” Evan said with a grin as he and Blaine left the commons. “I have a pair of cousins exactly the same. Though Kira _definitely_ kicks Max’s ass more times than he does hers. She’s just scary.” He shuddered and Blaine laughed; looping his arm around his shoulders as they made their way up the staircase.

“You know, I have a feeling we’re going to get on you and I.”

“I don’t know what gave you _that_ impression Anderson.” Evan replied with a laugh. “I’m a nightmare.” The two burst into chuckles; completely unaware of Wes; who was following them up with wide eyes.

“I told you he’d be fine.” Trent said smugly. “If you think they’re going to let him brood, even for a second, then I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

“I know.” Wes said with a tight smile. “It’s not distracting him that is the problem though, is it?” Trent sighed at that and his shoulders sagged slightly.

“I’m working on it. I know I said to give me a week, but these things don’t just happen that easily. Whatever uncle Chris manages to dig up, Dev will _have_ to spend at least part of the summer with his parents. They can’t do anything until they have actual evidence against them, so we need to be really careful.” Wes paused at that; nodding for the others to follow Blaine and Evan up the stairs; who were completely oblivious as to their conversation.

“I get that the situation is hard.” He said. “I get that it’s delicate and full of danger, but I _can’t_ let them hurt him anymore Trent. Today is the first time he’s looked truly happy in weeks, and it breaks my heart to think that just a few days in that house could undo it all.”

“I know.” Trent said soothingly. “But we might not have much of a choice. Our only option at the minute is if his parents sign him over to someone.”

“That won’t happen.” Wes replied quickly. “The Andersons are proud people. They won’t let him go without one hell of a fight.”

“And it’s a fight my parents are willing to have.” Trent replied. “But right now, Blaine is happy, and healthy and no court is going to remove a child like that from a home. No matter what we tell them. We need evidence, and that is something we just don’t have.”

“You’re sending him back there to be abused.” Wes hissed coldly.

“Do you think I want to?” Trent asked back; his anger rising for the second time that day. “Do you honestly think I want to send him back there knowing what they could do? I have no _choice_ Wes. Believe me if there was a way; we would have found it by now. We are not giving up on him, we just need more time.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Wes growled; running his hand through his hair.

“The only way for us to get proof of abuse in that house is if it occurs over the summer. Trust me when I say that I hope with everything that I am that it won’t come to that, but we’re running out of time very quickly, and at the minute none of us can see any alternative.”

“Can’t they at least send someone to come and take statements?”

“Saying what Wes? That an emotionally and mentally stunted boy told us he was being abused by parents who are well respected members of society? They will laugh in our faces.”

“Blaine is not stunted.”

“He is according to the courts.” Trent snapped. “You know this Wes. I _am_ trying to do everything I can here, but sometimes I even have to admit defeat. I’m not Superman, nor am I the Godfather. I don’t have connections to get people wacked or the power to fly off into the sunset with him. What I _can_ do, is be there waiting for them to slip. I’ll get them Wes, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine's song in this was inspired by Darren's cover for the Disney singalong earlier this year. He's come full circle; starting out by posting Disney covers on Youtube, to putting together a great little performance of I Wanna be Like You for the Disney channel. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I have very rough translations of Beat and Sebastian's argument, but I admit my French is high school level and I used Google for most of it. In that mind, if anyone, more fluent than I; would like to correct my God awful grammar, because I'm pretty sure I butchered most of it, please feel free to do so in the comments. It's the one language I really regret not continuing after high school.
> 
> Have a great weekend everyone, and I'll be back Monday. Peace out!


	32. Interrogations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my word, how good was DC on Saturday night???? He wore the blazer!!!! I have just about finished fangirling. I loved his nod to Starkid, it's always nice to see him talk about where he started, you can tell he loves them all. 
> 
> So I must warn you all that Seb is going to come across as slightly OOC in this chapter. Blame it on the coffee or the jet lag, but I felt he and Blaine needed to have a serious conversation. Don't worry, he'll soon be back to the snarky Sebastian we all know and love.

Saturday morning, had been brutal.

Or at least; _Wes_ had been brutal.

Blaine thought that it had all been going rather well; considering the fact that they had practiced neither of his songs, and had only heard the first; because Evan had released the original recording for it, with his permission of course. It wasn’t unusual for Wes to turn into a bit of a control freak, close to competition, and seeing as they’d only just sorted out their setlist, the head Warbler was freaking out more than usual. But they’d been practicing the choreography for the first song for the last three hours, and everyone was starting to flag.

They were lucky in the fact that Beat had managed to convince them to let him rope his newly arrived relative into helping him with the last song, and no one was really sure if Sebastian had wanted to be there, or whether he just couldn’t say no to his younger cousin. Most were sure it was the latter. The two of them, plus David, Thad and Blaine had been huddled in a corner for first part of the morning; talking in low voices; scratching pencils on diagrams of the stage and watching Beat tap out rhythms and count the steps needed to pull them off.

The only saving grace was that their middle piece, was simple in both its choreography and staging. To his delight and surprise; Ethan had been voted in for the second solo; and no one was happier for him than Blaine. He knew that Trent and Jeff had only auditioned out of duty to Wes, as he had pushed both of them to audition for Regionals and Sectionals respectively, and it was tradition for at least one of the previous soloists to front for Nationals. Ethan had quickly decided on a song that they could easily fall back on their famous two-step for, and it would offer them all a breather between the larger; first and third numbers.

Logan had surprisingly taken his loss well; congratulating the winning sophomore, and ending up getting rewarded with a solo section for Beat’s number in compensation; something he seemed pleased about, until he realised just how insane that number was shaping up to be.

“Okay I need a breather.” Evan gasped; breaking out of his spot in the fourth row to hunch over; his breathing heavy.

“We can’t _stop_.” Wes cried; shaking his head. “We’re not even half way there yet.”

“Wes, we’ve been going at it for _hours_.” Blaine replied; figuring that it was going to be up to him to be the voice of reason, seeing as none of his roommate’s fellow seniors had stepped forwards. “We all need a break.”

“Fine, you all have half an hour and then we’re back at it.” Wes replied in a growl. The group practically scattered; most of the freshman tripping over each other in their haste to make it to the cafeteria; their need for coffee outweighing anything else.

“Don’t you think you’re going slightly overboard?” Blaine asked, his own breaths shortened by the intensity of the workout. “We’ve gone over the first chorus _fifteen_ times.”

“And we’ll continue to do so until everyone is in time.” Wes grouched back; folding his arms. “Most of the back row are still half a beat out.”

“Which is impressive, given my drumming skills are rudimentary at best.” Blaine replied; shaking his head and gesturing to the CD player they had set up. “Once Beat manages to pick up the rhythm we will all fall into place like usual, but you need to slow down before someone pulls something.”

“Fine.” Wes snapped, irritation crossing his face. “When everyone gets back, we’ll work on harmonies. But I expect at least another run through before the end of practice.” Blaine nodded; knowing that was the best he was going to get, and looked towards David and Nick, who just looked resigned to their fate.

“I need a word.” Trent said; coming to his rescue and pulling Wes into the office for a ‘ _chat_ ’. “We’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“He’s snapped.” Thad said; approaching him; shaking his head. “He’s finally snapped.”

“Shut up Harwood.” Blaine replied sharply. “He just wants this to be perfect.”

“As much as I understand, I’m finding myself with Thad on this one.” Jeff butted in; throwing a glare at the office door. “He’s gotten ten times crazier since Regionals.”

“He’s under a lot of stress all right?” Blaine snapped. “He’s busy worrying about me, and Trent, and Nationals, and whether he’s graduating or not. Cut him some slack for once.” The rest of the seniors looked slightly guilty at that; realising that Blaine had a better measure on the situation than they did. Wes had a lot to stress about, and they knew that their fellow senior was not handling it well. Blaine’s living situation for the summer was still a point of discussion; one which they’d talked about for hours after the boy in question had fallen asleep, the previous night. Wes was struggling to cope.

* * *

Trent locked the door behind the pair of them and rounded on his fellow senior.

“What the hell are you playing at?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Wes replied snappishly.

“Yes, you _do_. That wasn’t practice, it was _punishment_.” Trent said; folding his arms and glaring Wes. “Half of the freshmen look like they’re about to cry, and the other half are collectively planning your demise. You need to pull back a bit before we lose half the squad.” Wes sighed; turning away from Trent and trying to calm his emotions. It wasn’t just about the Warblers, and Trent knew that. It was about Blaine, and the summer, and the fact that they were basically throwing him back into an abusive home with no back up. “Talk to me Wes.” Trent said softly; approaching the other boy and gripping his arm gently; turning him around to face him.

“I’m scared.” Wes admitted with a small voice. Trent sighed and wrapped his friend in a hug; knowing that all he could offer in that moment was comfort. Any reassurances would just sound hollow by that point.

“So am I.” He said instead; rubbing Wes’s back. “But you can’t take your frustration out on the guys Wes. It isn’t fair on them.”

“I know. I just… right now, they feel like the only thing I can really control.”

“I get it, I really do; but you need to soften up slightly. At least let everyone have a good long break before we go any further. It’s almost lunch time and you’ve sent them away for _half an hour_. Just please give everyone a rest.”

“Okay.” Wes whispered. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve been a nightmare all morning, haven’t I?”

“The fact that it was _Devon_ who took it upon himself to try and talk you down, should answer that question for you.” Wes groaned at that; knowing that it would have taken a lot for his roommate to stand up like that. “Hey.” Trent said gently; pulling away for a moment to grip Wes’s shoulders. “We’re only on Saturday. We have a full day tomorrow as long as no one murders anyone else, and we still have another three weekends after this. Nationals is something you really _don’t_ have to worry about. So, let’s get back out there, apologise to everyone and spend the rest of the afternoon having a takeout and watching movies. I think we could _all_ do with a break after the month we’ve just had.”

“At least he’s not talking about moving out now.” Wes whispered; the back of his hand suspiciously brushing over his eyes.

“Silver linings Wes. We take them any way they come. Now let’s go and make their day.”

* * *

“Can I talk to you?” Sebastian asked; approaching the group nervously and focusing on Blaine. “Alone?” He threw a look at the seniors who all eyes him suspiciously, but Blaine merely nodded and beckoned him out of the doors.

“What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you about Eddie.” Sebastian said; sitting down on the ottoman, just along the corridor. Blaine grimaced and took a seat; clenching his hands nervously. “I need to ask how he’s been doing. I mean _really_ doing.”

“I’m afraid I’m not the best person to ask.” Blaine replied. “I’ve only really got to know him over the last couple of weeks. You’d be better off talking to Trent.”

“But I go the impression you were close.”

“We are.” Blaine replied hurriedly. “Prince has become a really good friend, but I’ve not been having the best time of it as of late, and he is someone rather new in my life. I knew him through Trent and the Warblers, and we share some classes together; but we’ve only just started to hang out as serious friends.”

“Oh.” Blaine wasn’t quite sure what expression it was on Sebastian’s face. It looked a lot like relief, and even more like confusion. “So, you aren’t dating him?”

“What? No!” Was the exclamation. “I don’t even know if Prince swings that way.” Blaine said; the colour draining from his face. “Who told you that?”

“No one, it’s just you kept staring at him this morning, and he really _does_ talk about you a lot. He has always looked up to you, and I guessed I just figured there was something more going on.”

“Definitely not.” Blaine replied shaking his head. “I stare because I find it hard to read social cues and I’m trying to get better at it. Sebastian, this is something you should really talk to _him_ about.”

“I know, it’s just that our relationship has always been _complicated_.” The other boy sighed in frustration and fixed his gaze on one of the windows, further down the corridor. “I feel guilty you know?” He said after a few minutes. “Because I got my dad, and he was stuck with Aunt Sarah. My Uncle Henry is cool, but he’s never really been there for him, and when we were little, I did a lot of the protecting when his mom was having one of her episodes. Now he’s here, and he’s independent and I practically rely on Nixon for updates.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Blaine asked with large eyes. “You don’t really seem the type to spill everything to strangers.”

“That’s the thing though, you’re not a stranger.” Sebastian replied. “Not to me. I’ve been hearing stories about you for two years now.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair; wondering what the hell he was doing, pouring his heart out to a boy he’d only just properly met. “When Eddie first moved here, he didn’t have many friends. Getting put in a dorm with Nixon was the best thing that ever happened to him, and I’ve seen him grow into an amazing person because of it. You were his inspiration though Killer. He kept telling me stories about this guy in his year who looked as though he’d been through the ringer, and then about how you were getting better. About how you joined the Warblers, stood in front of crowds and sang your heart out; even though most of the time you could barely get through a conversation with the guys in your own year.”

“I was gay-bashed at my old school.” Blaine admitted quietly, ignoring the small intake of breath from Sebastian. “A group of guys jumped me and a friend outside a dance, and I spent a long time in hospital. When I first came here, I was a mess. I had to repeat my freshman year, I was in a brand-new school, with brand new people. I was scared of everything. Wes, Trent and the other guys got me through it though, and I started to get better. We’ve had a rough month. _I’ve_ had a rough month. I was seeing a guy who turned out to be really toxic, and I’ve been back sliding. But Prince has got me through the last couple of weeks. He’s a saint, and although I’ll admit we’ve shared a bed, it’s been because I’ve had a nightmare or a panic attack and he’s got me through it. He’s an extraordinary person Sebastian. But we don’t see each other in that way.”

“I thought lunch yesterday was a deflection.” Sebastian admitted. “I thought you were both trying to hide it from me. Now I guess my big cousin talk isn’t needed.” Blaine chuckled at that.

“You wouldn’t scare me anyway.” He said. “It takes much more than that.”

“Oh yeah?” Sebastian asked; his eyebrow raising and a smirk appearing on his face. “Big talk for a little guy.”

“I’m just as old as you.” Blaine sassed. “And I’m stronger than I look.”

“Of that I have no doubts.”

“Yeah, laugh it up. Just you wait until next weekend.”

“Why what happens next weekend?”

“I can’t tell you.” The smaller said with a grin. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” And with that he stood up and headed back towards the doors. “Just so you know.” He said; pausing to turn back to Sebastian with a serious expression. “Prince has a lot of conflicted feelings, maybe you should lay off the whole; ‘ _are you dating?_ ’ thing; at least until he works out who he is.” The other boy nodded and Blaine slipped back into the commons, just in time for Wes and Trent to make a reappearance.

* * *

“I want to apologise to you all.” Wes said; gesturing for them all to take seats around the room as he headed up to stand in front of the council table. “I have been a monster all morning, and there was no excuse for my attitude. I’m really sorry that I got a bit crazy, and I promise that from here on out I’ll work on being a bit more chilled out. To that end, there is no more practice today. We will be back at it tomorrow morning but this afternoon Trent and I are buying the take out, and whatever you guys want to watch, the blue-ray player is all yours. If you don’t want to stay, then you are of course free to do as you wish, but I want everyone back here by ten in the morning. I’m really sorry guys, I’ve been an asshole.”

“If it’s all the same Wes, can we keep going?” Evan asked; looking around the room and seeing his fellow Warblers nod in agreement. “We really need to get these two songs down, and we’re not going to do that by bunking off for the rest of the day. We want to keep going, at least for a little while, and maybe at a slightly slower pace for those of us who aren’t natural dancers.” Wes didn’t quite know what to say to that. The dedication they were all showing him, the trust, the _commitment_ ; it was a little overwhelming.

“Why don’t we split ourselves into groups?” Blaine asked; stepping in again when it was clear Wes wasn’t going to answer. “Half of us work on choreography whilst the other half work on harmonies, then we switch in half an hour. The steps for the last song aren’t quite finished yet, so let’s get everything nailed for Kings so that we can jump straight into a run through tomorrow morning. It gives everyone time for a break between dance sessions, and working with two smaller groups might make things easier to break down.”

“I could go for that.” Logan replied with a shrug. “Lindley makes a point about slowing things down for those of us struggling with the dance steps, so Anderson’s suggestion makes sense.” Blaine nodded at him in thanks for his support and they all turned to Wes, Nick and David.

“Jeff and I can work with the string and winds to get the harmonies tight; whilst you and David take choreography.” Nick said with a shrug. “If it’s what everyone wants.”

“It is.” Was the collective reply from the group in front of them.

“Okay.” Wes said with a nod. “Jessop, Fletcher; you’re both with Nick and Jeff, the rest of you split yourselves up.” Grant and Daniel gravitated over to Niff, whilst the rest of the Warblers divided themselves into two groups, within ten minutes they were back in full practise and things continued to run much smoother for the remainder of the day.

* * *

“Sebastian was asking questions earlier.” Blaine said as he and Wes got ready for bed. The pair of them were exhausted and sore, and both had taken much longer showers than strictly necessary to try and soothe the ache of tired muscles.

“What did he want to know?” Wes asked; his shoulders stiff.

“He was asking about Prince.”

“Prince?”

“Beat.” Blaine clarified; shaking his head. “He thought we were dating.”

“How did he reach _that_ conclusion?”

“Apparently Prince has talked about me quite a bit. He knew that I was in a bad shape when I came to Dalton, and he knew about me being on the Warblers. He also said I was staring at him during rehearsal this morning.”

“What did you tell him?” Wes asked; finally climbing into bed.

“The truth. About why I came here, why I was probably looking at Prince more than I should. About the fact that we’ve shared a bed, and the reasons why. I told him I don’t have feelings for him, and that Prince is conflicted enough, without adding in an over-protective big cousin who starts digging into his love life.”

“ _Do_ you have feelings for Beat?” Wes asked curiously.

“No.” Blaine replied firmly; shaking his head. “He feels like a little brother, it wouldn’t be right.”

“So how did he take it?”

“Okay, I guess. We had a bit of a joke about him not needing the whole protective speech, and he told me that I was cocky for a small guy. I told him to wait for next weekend, and then he’ll see how tough I am.”

“Why, what’s happening next weekend?” Wes asked with a frown.

“Fight Club.” Blaine replied with a shrug. “Thad and David have had people asking about it, and it’s starting to become an issue. We figured a meet was in order to try and quell some of the hype.”

“And you never thought to tell me?” Wes asked; completely unimpressed.

“I thought you knew. Why do you think I was in the gym again on Thursday?”

“Well who are you fighting?”

“I don’t know. No one has taken the gauntlet yet.” The ‘ _gauntlet_ ’ in question had once belonged to a suit of antique armour on the second floor, but now resided in the Warbler’s office. To stop gossip and any written evidence from escaping the FC; it had been decided that anyone who wanted to challenge the champion had to break into the office and steal the gauntlet then present it on the night, in order to fight. Blaine had named it ‘ _The Gauntlet of Fire_ ’ and claimed that, just like Dumbledore; he would know if anyone tried to steal it for a friend. “Besides, I don’t necessarily have to fight. The smaller bouts usually generate as much interest.”

“Is Trent running a book?”

“Isn’t he always? It’s the only way we know how to stop things getting out of hand.” Blaine replied with a shrug.

“I can’t believe that between the four of you, you basically run both an illegal fight ring, _and_ an illegal gambling ring.”

“It’s so badass right?” Blaine said with a grin.

“No, Devon, it’s scary. What if one of these days you get caught?”

“Come on, give us a little more credit than that. We know what we’re doing.”

“I can’t believe you ever roped me into it.”

“You’re our medical standby.” Blaine replied with a snort. “You’re hardly a criminal Wes.” Blaine had finally finished brushing out his curls and his climbed into his own bed; propping his head up on his hand in order to be able to see Wes over his mountain of pillows. “Besides, the profits go to a good cause.”

“I guess so.” Wes replied stiffly; rolling onto his back so that Blaine couldn’t see his face. Donating profits from an illegal gambling ring to charity felt a little too much like money laundering for his taste.

“So, you’re coming?” Blaine asked; missing Wes’s clipped tone.

“Of course, someone needs to be there to make sure you don’t do too much damage to whichever poor sod you fight.” Blaine grinned at that and settled down; reaching up to flick his reading light off, plunging them both into darkness.

“Night Wes.”

“Goodnight Devon.”


	33. Mash-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry you guys, I have been really struggling with this chapter. It's taken me days to try and make it past the first section, and there about three versions of this that are all completely different. I might post some of them as one-shots at a later date, if I don't end up working them into the story somehow. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this one, I'm confident the next couple will come a little bit easier, so expect another couple of updates over Friday and the weekend.

Nick bolted upright as a scream pierced the silence of the dorm, and he looked over at Jeff’s bed, only to find his boyfriend in the same state as he was. There was another strangled cry and they realised that it was coming from next door. Both he and Jeff were on the move as soon as they had managed to find their dressing gowns, and neither bothered knocking; knowing that Wes would need help immediately, and wouldn’t be able to come to the door if he had his hands full with Blaine.

Except that it wasn’t Blaine.

Well, it _was_ ; but Blaine hadn’t been the one who had screamed.

The younger boy was actually the one with his hands full. Wes was shaking in his arms; his brown eyes blown wide and tears pouring down his face. His breathing was heavy; bordering on hyperventilation, and Nick sprang into action before either of the two realised that he and Jeff were there.

“Wes look at me.” He ordered softly; cupping Wes’s face and wiping his cheeks with his thumbs. He was rewarded with tentative eye contact, and he tried to convey as much reassurance and comfort as he could. “It’s okay Wes, it was just a nightmare; you’re safe. Devon has you, and Jeff’s here.” He gestured behind him only to find his boyfriend close to tears and staring on with huge eyes. “See look Wes; you’re surrounded by friends, you’re safe now.”

“Devon.” Wes choked out; shaking his head.

“I’m right here.” The younger boy murmured; burying his head into Wes’s collar bone and tightening his grip on his roommate’s waist. “It’s okay Wes, I’ve got you.” Wes couldn’t seem to stop shaking; and all three boys were becoming increasingly worried. “Nick, can you go and get Trent?” Blaine asked softly.

“I’ll go.” Jeff responded instead.

“No, you stay here.” Nick replied, leaving no room for an argument. “I’ll go.” He promptly took off; Jeff taking his spot in front of Wes; trying to do his best to comfort his fellow senior.

“We’ve got you.” Blaine kept repeating; like a mantra; into Wes’s ear. The same three words over and over again as if he was trying to convince himself, as much as he was trying to comfort his roommate.

“I’m so sorry.” Wes choked out. “God, I don’t even know what happened.”

“You’re exhausted Wes.” Blaine whispered. “And you’re spending too much time worrying about everyone else, that you aren’t taking time for _you._ ”

“I don’t want you to move out.” Wes half sobbed. “Please stay. Please Devon, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere right now.” Blaine replied; carefully avoiding promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. “Let’s just focus on getting your breathing under control before we do anymore talking, yes?” Wes nodded and slowed his breaths to try and match Blaine’s. All the while; Jeff looked on, feeling rather out of his depth as Blaine managed to bring Wes back from the edge. Something told him that Blaine had picked up these same techniques from the boy in his arms, and he felt like he was intruding on something very private. The door opened and Trent entered the room; followed by a sleepy looking Beat, and a slightly confused Nick.

Beat didn’t waste any time and instantly climbed onto the bed; snuggling himself into Wes’s other side; his arms falling a few inches lower than Blaine’s. The effect was instantaneous, and Wes seemed to calm down; freeing an arm from the double embrace; to loop around the small boy.

“How are you feeling?” Trent asked; his eyes filled with worry. The first thing he did was check to see if Wes had a fever; his hand coming up to his friend’s forehead before moving down to cup his cheek; not unlike Nick had done moments prior.

“Like shit.” Was Wes’s reply, and Trent merely rolled his eyes at the use of language.

“Do you think you’re going to be able to get back to sleep? It’s really early.” Wes looked unsure but nodded slowly.

“I’ll stay with you.” Blaine whispered; reading his roommate’s mind. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“Neither am I.” Beat replied stubbornly. “I’m staying with Wes and Devon.” Trent sighed at that; running his hand through his hair and nodding.

“Do you need us to stay?” Nick asked Blaine; glancing over to the spare bed. “We can put the camp beds up and have a sleepout.

“No.” Wes butted in; shaking his head. “You should _all_ go back to your own dorms and get some more sleep. It’s bad enough that I’ve bothered you at this hour, I’m fine, honestly.” His breathing had calmed and he’d pulled slightly away from the two sophomores to run his hands through his hair.

“You are a fucking hypocrite; do you know that?” Blaine asked. “How many times have we had this conversation, but reversed? We’re here for you, just as much as you’ve been here for me. You aren’t pulling that bullshit on me Wes, because it won’t work.” Wes groaned but eventually allowed Trent to tuck all three of them into his bed; Blaine and Beat wrapped around him; their curls tickling his nose as they mashed their heads together on his chest. “We’ve got you Wes.” Blaine whispered. “Go back to sleep.” Wes shut his eyes in an attempt to do just that, and soon found himself slipping off to sleep.

* * *

Beat blinked his eyes open, taking stock of his situation as he fought off the last vestiges of sleep. He was tucked into the side of Wes; his hands wrapped in the older boy’s t-shirt and he could see dark curls poking out from under the covers on the opposite side of the bed; showing that Blaine was still in the same position he had fallen asleep in; splayed out across his roommate’s chest.

“Beat?” He sucked in a slight breath at Wes’s voice and he looked up; straight into the older boy’s eyes. “Are you okay?” He nodded and closed his eyes again; shifting slightly so that Wes could finally unwrap his arm from around his back.

“Sorry.” He whispered; hearing him hiss in discomfort; knowing that his shoulder was more than likely stiff from the position they had been in for the best part of six hours.

“I’m okay.” Wes reassured; burying his now free hand into Blaine’s curls.

“Are you?” He asked. “What happened last night?” He immediately realised what he had done and back tracked, quickly. “You don’t have to tell me.” He rushed out; shaking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked; but you should talk to _someone_. Devon is worried about you.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Wes soothed, untangling his fingers form his roommate’s hair to wrap his arm back around Beat. “I know you’re all worried.” He said softly; drawing him back into his side. “It was a bad dream, nothing more. I really am okay. I’m just sorry I created such a fuss.” It was only then that Beat realised they weren’t alone in the dorm. Trent was tucked into Blaine’s bed, opposite, and he could hear snoring coming from somewhere near the window; in between the two desks.

“I’m glad we’re here.” Beat replied softly. “You should know that you aren’t on your own.” They both started when the door flew open and David and Thad rushed in; eyes wide and breaths heavy. Blaine had jumped awake in Wes’s other arm and Beat reached out to him, gripping his hand to assure him that they were okay.

“What the fuck happened?” Thad asked desperately. “Why are you all in here?” Beat could feel Wes stiffen and he sat up, prepared to defend the room full of his friends.

“It’s my fault.” He said quietly. “I had an argument with Trent last night, and needed somewhere to come. I made Devon jump when I woke him up and disturbed Jeff and Nick.”

“What the fuck Windsor?” Thad growled. “You couldn’t just stick around and work it out? These lot have a hard-enough time sleeping as it is.”

“I know.” Beat said quietly. “And I’m sorry.” Thad growled and David gripped the top of his arm, trying to calm him down. There was something off about that story; namely the fact that Beat and Trent didn’t have it in themselves to be mad at one another.

“Now can we have the truth please Beat?” He said gently, when he was sure his roommate wasn’t going to go off on anyone else. He sat on the edge of Wes’s bed; reaching out to squeeze Blaine’s shoulder gently in a silent greeting.

“It was me okay?” Blaine replied snappishly. “I had a nightmare and dragged everyone else into my problems. I’m sorry we worried you but they were just trying to help.” David didn’t look quite convinced at that, but nodded his head anyway and Thad was too busy glaring at Beat to notice the looks passed between the other four seniors in the room. The two sophomores seemed hell bent on protecting Wes, and they all knew what would happen if they got in an argument this early in the morning, so David dropped the subject, figuring he’d get an explanation later.

“We were just worried when no one was in their dorms.” He said gently. “No harm done.”

“I’m sorry.” Blaine said again, softer this time as he realised how worried the pair must have been to crash into their dorm like that. “I really didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“Well we’ve found you all now.” Thad said quietly; his anger dropping away. “So why don’t you all get yourselves sorted and David and I will run out for breakfast?”

“That sounds like a plan.” Trent said with a smile, glad that the tension in the room had finally been dispelled.

“We’ll see you in a bit then.” David said with a smile; leaning over to give Blaine a one-armed hug before dragging Thad out of the room.

“Why would you do that?” Wes whispered. “Why lie?”

“Because I know what it’s like to feel suffocated.” Blaine answered softly. “And I guessed that you wouldn’t want a huge fuss being made over one bad dream.”

“And I know what it’s like to wake from a nightmare and be treated like glass for the rest of the day. Like Blaine said, it was one bad dream, you’d end up in a really shitty mood if everyone started tiptoeing around you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t good enough to pull it off.” Beat said with a blush.

“Well no harm done.” Trent said with a smile. “Though you probably haven’t endeared yourself to Thad.”

“I don’t know why he doesn’t like me.” The young boy whispered.

“Thad just needs time to trust you.” Nick said; speaking for the first time, from where he and Jeff were now sat against the window. “He’s like that with everyone, he finds it hard until he gets to know them. It’s really nothing personal.”

“He took an entire semester with me.” Jeff replied with a shrug. “It’s just how he is.” Beat knew that there was more to the story, there always was, but he just nodded and picked at his fingernails.

“It’s really nothing to worry about.” Wes said softly; rubbing Beat’s shoulder. “He will get there, just keep doing what you’re doing.” Blaine was smiling at him and he nodded; that was easy. He had come to care more about Blaine in the last couple of weeks, than he had about anyone else. It wasn’t hard to be his friend.

* * *

Sunday passed much like the Saturday afternoon had, but with more progress being made due to the fact that they had finally hammered out the choreography for the third song, and Beat had finally managed to pick up the rhythm of the first. Wes’s angry drilling of the back row, the previous day, had finally paid off, and they had just about wrapped up the first song for full run-throughs.

The only spanner in the works, was that Ethan had changed his mind about his number overnight, only to change it back again during lunch. Trent had ended up sitting him down and they went through both options, with the Senior leading the sophomore to a decision that he felt the most comfortable with.

A mash up.

“Blaine, we need you.” Trent called; waving the younger boy over to where he and Ethan were sat together, looking over some sheets.

“Logan too.” Ethan said; much to the shock of both Trent and the boy in question. He and Blaine shared a look before shrugging and making their way over. “How do you feel about singing a duet?” Ethan asked, looking at Logan. “A mash up between Usher and Mumford and Sons.”

“I have a section in the last song.” Logan argued.

“And that will still be yours, even if you take this on.” Blaine said with a nod. “Beat and I had already agreed that when we wrote it. But this is going to mean more work.”

“What songs?” Logan asked. “Are we singing to each other, because; and I mean this in the nicest possible way, I don’t play for the same team as Anderson and Nixon here.” Blaine and Trent both coloured slightly at that, though they were both sporting smiles, which meant that he was off the hook.

“I was thinking Without You and I Will Wait.” Ethan said with a shrug. “I have been struggling to decide between them and…” He trailed off with a slight blush. “I might have broken up with my girlfriend last night.”

“So, you’re feeling angsty rather than horny.” Logan replied with a grin. “Yeah I get that.”

“Moving on.” Trent said quickly with a clearing of his throat. “Will you be able to do it?” He asked, turning to Blaine.

“Easily. Can you give me like an hour?”

“An hour?” Logan asked with wide eyes.

“I mean, I could probably do it quicker if I duck out.” Blaine replied; completely oblivious as to the _actual_ reason for the other boy’s surprise. “It’s just it’s a little noisy in here…”

“An hour’s fine Blaine.” Ethan replied soothingly. “Thank you.” He shot a look at Logan who was watching the sophomore with large eyes and shook his head in the hopes of stalling whatever was going to come out of the boy’s mouth.

“Great.” Blaine said with a grin. “How many other parts do you want it stripping back to? Do you want me to strip both of them right back to two or three parts each, or do you need me to ask Beat about training another drum up for the first?”

“Whatever you decide to go with will be fine.” Ethan said with a shrug. “I trust your judgement so go for what sounds right.” Blaine nodded and gathered up the sheets for both songs, plus a stack of blank sheets that Trent had conveniently sourced. He sat himself down and began to work; his pencil flying across the paper as the music sheets were filled with what initially looked like chicken scratches. It was fortunate that the team had gotten used to his messy pages by now, and that however quickly he wrote, they always seemed to get the gist of what he had composed.

Trent, Ethan and Logan initially left him to it, returning to the main practice and diving into learning the choreography for Beat’s song. They couldn’t help but get distracted though; watching Blaine work, and eventually the entire team gave up practice to sit and watch the wonder that was Blaine Anderson, literally arrange something in just less than an hour. It was a privilege most of them had yet to see, as he usually did his work in his dorm, or after hours; but here was the proof that they were performing with a literal genius in their midst.

“I don’t know how you do it Anderson, but this is pretty fucking amazing.” Logan said honestly; reading over the sheets an hour after Blaine had started working on them. “I watched you do it, and I’m still struggling to believe that you just pulled this out of thin air in less than an hour.” Blaine blushed and ducked his head.

“Mashing songs together is easy.” He said softly. “I know the material, and it’s not like I’m working from scratch.”

“I want to play in your brain.” Evan piped up from the side of Trent; rifling through the sheets.

“So you keep saying.” Blaine replied with a smile.

“What do you think Wes?” Trent asked. “National’s material?”

“I think we have this in the bag.” The head Warbler said with a grin; gaining cheers and laughter from the team. “So there fore we’re taking the rest of the afternoon off. Guys, go get changed, take out is on us seniors tonight.” The whole room exploded into louder cheering and soon the boys were falling over themselves to get up to their dorms.

* * *

“So, what _did_ happen last night?” David asked quietly; not wanting to disturb Blaine or Beat. They were all piled into Nick and Jeff’s dorm; Sebastian having been invited to both to dinner with the Warblers, and the after party with the seniors. Beat and Blaine were curled up together on Jeff’s bed; Sebastian glancing over to them every so often; as if trying to figure something out.

“It was me who had the nightmare.” Wes said quietly. “They were trying to protect me from everyone smothering me this morning. It was misguided, but their hearts were in the right place. It isn’t like _we_ haven’t done the same thing in the past.”

“Are you all right though?” Thad asked, with calculating eyes. “Just how bad was it?”

“I don’t remember.” Wes said with a frown. “I have no idea what it was but Blaine told me I’d been screaming.”

“You were.” Nick replied quietly. “It’s what woke us up. You were in a bit of a mess, but having Blaine and Beat with you seemed to calm you down.”

“I honestly don’t know what it was.” Wes whispered. “I just remember being terrified that they had been hurt, and that I’d failed them.” With him sandwiched between both members of Niff, there was no way Trent was ever going to be able to hug him; as both boys already had him wrapped in their arms, but it didn’t stop him from reaching over to squeeze his shoulder in silent support.

Sebastian was watching this with wide eyes as he realised the full scope of the situation. These guys had practically given their existence over to the protection of the dark-haired boy, and it seemed as though his little cousin had been firmly adopted into their pack over the course of the last few weeks. He knew that Trent had always looked out for Edward, but seeing Wes break down over a nightmare about him, told him all he needed to know about how much these guys cared.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He whispered. “How do you all _cope_?”

“Practice and experience.” David replied softly. “That’s all it is. We felt exactly the same when we first met Blaine, and he was much worse then than he is now.”

“I think we got through those first few weeks on coffee alone.” Trent added sadly. “There was about four months when he didn’t sleep through a single night.”

“What I would have done to make the bastards pay.” Thad muttered darkly.

“What happened exactly?” Sebastian asked carefully; not wanting to step over any boundaries too early but his natural curiosity winning out. “He told me about the nature of the attack, but what did they _do_ to him?” The seniors all looked at each other for a long while; trying to weigh up how much to divulge and in the end, it was Trent and Wes who told him Blaine’s story, everything that they knew.

He _was_ here for Blaine, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one was slightly angsty in places, but Wes has every right to be struggling; especially after the month they've just had. Let me know your thoughts!


	34. Fight Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are, a new chapter, a new week and a few scenes I've been super looking forwards to writing for some time. Hope you enjoy!

“The gauntlet is gone.” Thad gasped; having run through half the school to find Blaine on Wednesday morning. “Someone is challenging you.”

“Okay, take deep breaths.” Blaine said softly; leading the senior over to a bench. “It’s not like this should come as a surprise.” He said with a smile. “That was the whole point of the meet.”

“I’ve been checking on it every morning.”

“Why?”

“I needed to know.” Blaine chuckled at that; unfazed by the news.

“I’m not worried Thad. Despite what happened the other week, my form has improved and the weight I’ve lost has worked to my advantage.” He held his hand up when the older boy went to protest. “I know that it isn’t a healthy weight loss, and I’m eating more and trying to get it back up to where it was, but it isn’t going to happen over night, and it _is_ an advantage for my fighting style. You know this. I have this Thad; you’ve seen me fight dozens of times. Hell, I worked my way through you. _Twice_.” Thad grimaced at those particular memories, and had no wish to repeat the experience a third time.

“I know that you can fight.” He said quietly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that Wes is going to freak out.”

“Has he been giving you a hard time over this?” Blaine asked with a frown. “Because he knows my views on it, and we _had_ to do something to dispel the gossip.”

“He’s just worried about you. We all are.” Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his hair; dropping down onto the bench next to the senior.

“I really _am_ doing better.” He said quietly. “I know that I went of the rails for a while, but I think it had been a long time coming, and it’s gonna sound weird, but I feel…lighter. Does that make sense?”

“Why don’t you explain it to me?” Thad asked, knowing that this was something Blaine needed to get off his chest. The younger boy had started tapping his fingers against his knees, a common tic for when something was bothering him.

“It feels like I’ve been waiting for something to happen. For something to go wrong. And last month everything that _could_ go wrong, did. I went through it all; a toxic friendship, several arguments, migraines, anxiety attacks, nightmares… I went through it _all_ , and I’m still here. I’m still here and fighting at it feels good to know that whatever life throws at me I can get through it. I feel like this heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I can actually breathe. I have new friends, one of whom is going to become my new roomie, and I have never felt so connected to the rest of the team.”

“Then leave Wes and his worries to the rest of us.” Thad said softly. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, and let us take care of the rest. You’ve been through hell these past few weeks, and David and I haven’t been much help.”

“You got Wes through that mountain of homework.” Blaine replied, shaking his head. “You pushed for us to have a sit-down last week, you kept an eye on Kurt for me. You helped Trent plan that amazing day out in Columbus, you both help me run the Club. You do more than enough Thad.”

“It doesn’t feel that way sometimes.” The older boy whispered; insecurity building in his chest.

“Listen to me.” Blaine ordered softly. “You all do more than I ever expected. _All_ of you. When I came here, I never expected to find friends, never mind people who would care about me as much as you all do. You stick up for me, even when I’m oblivious as to _why_ I need sticking up for. You defend me against those that are ignorant, and challenge any of those who dare to hurt me. You helped me create this club to help my confidence, and to teach me how to defend myself. You let me ramble on about random things, _just_ so that I always have someone to listen to me. You have made me feel _seen_. Made me feel _strong_. I’m so grateful for the lot of you. So, no more of this bullshit okay? You do plenty for me.”

“Sorry.” Thad said with a grimace. “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“Hey, none of that.” Blaine said sternly. “Or I really _will_ challenge you to a third round on Friday night.”

“You never know.” He replied; forcing a grin to his face. “Third time’s a charm.” Blaine laughed at that and pulled the senior up from the bench.

“Congratulations on Princeton by the way.” He said with a smile; holding his hand out for Thad to shake. “It’s a fine college and I know that you are going to make an amazing engineer.”

“Thanks Blaine.” Thad replied; touched and a little stunned. “We’ll keep in touch though yeah?”

“Of course.” Blaine replied with a grin. “Who else would I call to help me with car troubles?” Thad laughed at that and the unease he had been feeling disappeared. “Friday is going to be okay you know.” Blaine said softly. “I am feeling really good about it.”

* * *

“I still think it’s a bad idea.” Wes said on Wednesday night. They were both sat on Blaine’s bed; against the back wall; Wes’s laptop open and Space Odyssey playing.

“I know.” Blaine replied with a shrug. “But you worry every time, and every time it turns out fine. I had to give Thad this same talk earlier, don’t make me do it again.”

“If you’re having to talk Thad down then you _really_ shouldn’t be fighting.” Wes said with huge eyes; getting off the bed to pause the movie. “If he thinks that there is a problem, then you need to call the whole thing off.”

“Relax Wes.” Blaine said. “He was more concerned at the fact that _you_ were going to freak out. I’m okay, and I feel good about this. I’ll be wearing headgear, and I’ll make sure to tape my hands. I’ll keep hydrated through the day, and you will be there to mop up the guy’s blood I spill. I promise you that there really is nothing to worry about. Come on, how many fights have I had now?”

“Thirty-seven.” Wes said instantly. “And I feel sick every time I watch you.” Blaine sighed and rubbed his eyes, before getting out his phone and dialling Thad’s number.

“Can you help me, please?” He asked when the other senior answered the call. “Wes is freaking out.” Wes growled and threw his hands up in the air, muttering about how crazy it all was, and how he was going to brain Thad for ever letting Blaine set up the stupid club in the first place. There was a knock on the door and he stormed over to it; dragging his fellow senior in and crossing his arms.

“Why are you worried?” He asked; glaring at Thad. “Why did Blaine have to talk to you earlier?”

“Because of this.” Thad replied waving his hand at him. “I was worried that you were going to go all protective momma bear on him and freak him out. Blaine knows his limitations better than we do, and I believe him when he says he’s ready to fight on Friday. I wouldn’t let him anywhere near the ring if that wasn’t the case. You _know_ that.” Wes’s face was like thunder, but one look at his roommate had him deflating instantly. Thad was right, if he carried on, he would end up psyching Blaine out, and that was the _last_ thing he wanted to do.

“Fine.” He growled; gritting his teeth. “I’m not going to pretend I like this, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I? But know this Harwood, I will find _you_ personally responsible if this all goes wrong.”

“Fair enough, Blaine, promise me you won’t lose?” Blaine grinned at Thad and nodded.

“Promise.” He replied; the pair of them laughing at Wes’s subsequent groan.

* * *

Friday came around much quicker than Wes could anticipate, and he found himself stood at the edge of their makeshift ring, chewing nervously on his fingernails. He spotted Sebastian in the crowd, looking painfully confused; and he waved their new Junior over in the hopes to distract his mind for a few more minutes.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asked; an eyebrow raised as he looked over the ring.

“Devon, with the help of a couple of _assholes_ took it upon himself to start a fight club.” Wes growled. Okay so maybe chatting to Sebastian wasn’t the _best_ idea whilst he was still half pissed off and half terrified.

“Blaine, as in _our_ Blaine?”

“Do you know another one?” Wes sniped.

“Then what are you? Moral support?”

“Medical support. Though support is a loose term.” Sebastian snorted at that.

“I guess this whole putting himself in danger thing really grates on your over-protective side. You know you’re going to have to let him go sooner or later. That Warbler is going to have to learn how to fly. See you later mommy.” With one last smirk the tall boy disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Wes in an even worse state than he’d found him.

“Good evening everyone!” Thad called out; climbing into the ring and holding his hands up for quiet. “Thank you.” He said when the crowd died down. “Now this meet has only gone ahead because of the gossip that has started floating around the halls. So, I feel I need to remind you all about the rules of Fight Club. Rule number one, you do not talk about Fight Club, second rule of fight club is; you do _not_ talk about fight club.” The outbuilding had grown silent at this, several of the boys knowing that they had broken that rule at least once during the last month. “Third rule of Fight Club is, if someone goes limp, taps out or yells stop, then the fight is over. Fourth rule, no shirts, no shoes. Fifth rule; one fight at a time fellas, we only have one ring. Sixth rule, only two guys to a fight. Seventh rule; fights will go on for as long as they have to. And eighth and final rule; you do _not_ talk about Fight Club. Not in the halls, not during the weekends, not even to your mommas. I don’t want to hear it, and neither do you want the trouble it will bring you. Are we all understood?”

“Yes.” Came the answer from the crowd.

“Good, now as usual, Senior David Thompson is running the bouts, and Senior Trent Nixon is running the book. If we catch any other gambling taking place, you will be escorted out and face consequences. Do I make myself clear?” There was another yes from the crowd. “Good. Your officials for tonight are myself, Senior Jeff Sterling, Junior Logan Wright, Junior Daniel Fletcher and Junior Grant Jessop. Medical stand-by is Senior Wes Montgomery and Senior Nick Duval. Are there any questions?” When the crowd remained silent Thad nodded in acceptance. “Very well then, who’s first?”

* * *

The first three bouts had been quick, and relatively painless for the boys involved. Most used them to end petty feuds, and it was easy to see that they had little to no experience, nearly all of them had tapped out after ten minutes.

Apart from the big eight; there were two more rules, introduced after only the second meet, when Jeff had suffered a nasty right hook to his cheek from a bare-knuckled opponent. The first was that gloves had to be worn at all times, and the second was that headgear and mouthguards were also mandatory.

If you turned up without a mouthguard you weren’t fighting, full stop; but between them Blaine, Thad and David _had_ ensured that there was a small stock of gloves and headgear for those who didn’t have their own.

“Okay, now I know there are a few more bouts on the cards, but we are getting late and we still have the Main Event to come.” Thad called out; the crowd dying down when he ducked back into the ring. “If anyone feels like their bout can wait until next time, please let Senior Thompson know, otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

There were grumblings, but a few of the boys _did_ approach David though the next bout, removing their names from the card until only one other fight remained. Thad read the two names and felt the colour drain from his face. Trent was going to murder him. He looked over to see Sebastian, already waiting by the side of the ring; his eyebrow quirked and a smirk on his face, and he knew that he had no choice.

“Okay so for the next bout we have a newcomer to Fight Club _and_ Dalton, Junior Sebastian Smythe.” Sebastian bounced into the ring; his green eyes shining with laughter and Thad swallowed heavily as he forced himself to read the second name on the card. “And fighting him… Sophomore Edward Windsor.” There was confused muttering spread through the crowd as the unfamiliar name was read; but confusion turned to shock when a familiar shock of strawberry blonde curls entered the ring. Trent looked halfway between horrified and ill, Wes looked ready to disembowel him, and he was _really_ glad that Blaine was staying away for the first few bouts.

“You ready to get your ass kicked?” Beat asked, starting to circle Sebastian as Thad jumped out of the way into his corner.

“Yeah right shortcake. The only thing you could reach are my ankles.” Sebastian replied, and nervous laughter spread through the crowd.

“Bet I could reach your _dick_. It’s not like you use it.” Beat replied, and the laughter grew less nervous and louder as he and his cousin traded familiar insults.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“My mouth has more talent than you possess in that fire hose you call a body.”

“Just a shame you’re a ginger, you soulless spawn of Satan.”

“Falling back on the ginger jokes, are we? How unoriginal, kind of like that hair dye your maman packed you.” A number of ‘ _oooohh_ ’s went through the crowd and both boys grinned at each other.

“Ready?” Jeff asked shakily; entering the ring to ref. He got nods of confirmation from both cousins and held his hand up to start the fight. “Fight.”

* * *

Blaine watched with huge eyes as Beat and Sebastian went for it. He’d been getting bored in the changing room, so had decided to catch some pre-fight entertainment. He had almost thrown up when Thad had called Beat’s name, but seeing him and Sebastian go at it was a completely different story. Beat was moving like quicksilver, dodging punches and returning a few of his own blows. They were both sporting huge grins and he swore he could hear laughing from the older of the two cousins.

The fight lasted the longest out of all of them so far; an impressive fifteen minutes; thanks largely to Beat’s stamina, but Blaine could see that the pair of them were starting to tire. Beat landed an impressive punch into Sebastian’s ribs, and followed it up with a hook to the chin; his size making it easy for him to get inside the taller boy’s guard. Sebastian grunted and returned a couple of blows, neither of which made their mark.

“That the best you’ve got?” Beat grunted. “Come on Stan, I thought you were proving a point!” Sebastian growled and rained down a few more punches, landing one neatly on the side of Beat’s eye. “That’s better!” The younger boy shouted, and sent another few body blows; catching Sebastian twice more in the ribs before delivering another blow to his chin. The taller boy fell to his knees and tapped the canvas, knowing that if they did anymore damage to each other their parents would throw a collective hissy fit.

“And Smythe concedes, the win goes to Windsor!” Thad called out; relief evident in his voice as Jeff grabbed Beat’s wrist and held it up. The crowd cheered loudly and Beat was sporting a huge grin. Seb rolled his eyes but hauled himself to his feet to wrap an arm around his cousin’s shoulder. It was like watching David fell Goliath, and Blaine couldn’t hold his laughter in at the sight of his younger friend smiling like an idiot. Wes ran onto the canvas and quickly unstrapped Beat’s headgear; questioning him frantically and snapping ice packs to press against the bruises. Nick shook his head and climbed up to tend to Sebastian, Wes’s nerves clearly too strung out to focus on anything else but Beat.

“That was a ballsy move by the pair of you.” He said with a grin, checking the taller boy’s ribs for bruising and strapping him up when Sebastian hissed. “You realise you’ve created a monster, right? It’s a good job Blaine didn’t see that or you would be fighting again.”

“Oh, I but I _did_ see it.” Blaine said; hopping into the ring to cheers from the crowds. “The pair of you almost gave me a fucking heart attack, but I’m glad you’re both okay.”

“You can’t be serious about fighting _now_.” Wes whispered to him; shaking his head. “Don’t do this to me Devon, I beg of you.” Blaine merely grinned and turned his attention to the crowd as Wes and Nick helped the other two boys down out of the ring.

“I hear someone is planning on running the gauntlet tonight.” He said loudly, to much cheering. “So, can we please make a clear run for them up to the ring?” The crowd started shifting, like the parting of the red sea and Blaine grinned at the run. “So, who is my challenger? Come on step forwards, don’t be shy.”

“I am.” Came a voice from the back of the room, and a boy stepped forwards; the gauntlet in his hand. “I, Freshman Evan Lindley, challenge you, Sophomore Anderson for the title.”


	35. Questions on Love and Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me a while to get up guys. It was kind of tough to write, and I was procrastinating on the ending.
> 
> I'm going away with work for a while, so updates may be sporadic for the next few months. Luckily, my muse has me focusing on this fic at the moment, so there will be updates when I can get hold of a half decent WiFi connection, it just means that you might get a few chapters all at once and every other week, rather than a new chapter every other day. I'll try and get another chapter ready for before I go tomorrow, but there can be no promises on that end. I hope you'll stick with this fic, as we have a long way to go before it's finished, and I have already planned past the summer.

Evan walked down the run that the boys had created and threw the gauntlet onto the canvas. The crowd was unusually silent. It _was_ called running the gauntlet for a reason. The cheers and the insults that were usually thrown had not appeared, and it was more than a little strange. This whole _night_ had been more than a little strange. Evan climbed up and double checked his glove straps, a large grin on his face.

“I have terms.”

“Name them.” Blaine said faintly; trying to get over his shock.

“If you win, I’ll stop badgering you about the studio.” He said, earning a snort from Blaine, because like _that_ would ever happen. “But if you win, you must promise to record at least ten songs next year.”

“Deal.” Blaine said quickly. “But I have something to add.” Evan nodded his acceptance. “If I win, you never step foot in this ring again. If you win, I’ll agree to record those songs before the summer.” He knew that there was no way in hell he would manage that; but his plan was to not allow Lindley the opportunity to land a single hit. The boy would go down firmly, but hopefully without serious injury, and Blaine could then ensure his protection for the rest of his school career.

“Deal.” Evan replied with a grin, and the two of them bumped gloves.

“I suppose there’s no point me leaving time for you to trash talk one another?” Thad asked; a worried expression on his face as his eyes flickered between the two small boys. He’d seen Evan fight, and knew that the boy was quick, but he lacked weight behind his punches. Not that it mattered, it only took one lucky haymaker to fell someone, and Blaine’s recent weight loss was now evident and concerning.

The very first Fight Club had almost claimed Blaine before he’d even fought; the idea of his scars on show for the rest of the school ensuring that he’d thrown up twice before he’d even made into the ring. But eventually his confidence had grown, and with the rumours that followed him; no one had ever been brave enough to approach him about them. Fight club was the only time Blaine went shirtless; even in bed he always wore one of Wes’s hockey team tees, or an old, faded comic printed pyjama top and he hardly ever changed in front of anyone but Wes.

But now, Thad could see changes his body had gone through in the last month. The muscle was still there, but so were his ribs; not prominent, but visible enough to cause mild alarm. Blaine had never had much body mass to lose, he’d always been terribly underweight, so this development _was_ a big deal.

“I don’t think we need to resort to such pettiness.” Evan replied sassily; answering his question whilst throwing a grin over to Beat, who was still being fussed over by Wes. The older boy just rolled his eyes and gave him a look that said; ‘ _get on with it then_ ’.

“Very well, ready?” Both boys nodded and Thad started the bout; staying on the canvas to ref, as he did for all of Blaine’s fights.

O_o_O_o_O

Blaine was surprised; Evan moved _fast_ , but the one punch he’d managed to land had been a light jab, and so Blaine kept him on the move; knowing that he’d have to tire the younger boy out. He led them both on a merry dance and when Thad called fifteen minutes, he could feel himself starting to slow; they’d traded a few blows; having to be split up by Thad _twice_ , but either Evan was pulling his punches, or he lacked the weight to cause much damage.

They had traded more verbal jabs than they had physical; both of them grinning stupidly at each other, not unlike Beat and Sebastian had done. He was enjoying this. An opponent that was hard to pin down always made for an interesting bout, and Evan moved like quicksilver.

“Twenty minutes!” Thad called out and Blaine decided that enough was enough, and went from defence, straight into offense; landing several blows that had Evan on his bum within seconds, whilst ensuring he wasn’t too injured. A few bruises to the shoulders, jaw and stomach were all he was going to have to suffer, it wasn’t like he was heavy enough to have to knock out completely. The younger boy tapped out as soon as he hit the canvas and Blaine straightened up; holding out his hand to pull him to his feet. He could see satisfaction in Evan’s eyes, and he knew that he’d been played somehow.

“Good fight.” Evan gasped with a grin as Wes and Nick hurried over to check them both out. Blaine held out his hand and they bumped fists again before allowing themselves to be led from the ring.

“And that’s all for tonight gents.” Thad said; holding up his hand to quiet the crowd of boys. “As always, news of the next meet will go out through the seniors, but until then; remember the first rule of Fight Club.”

“There is no Fight Club!” The crowd chanted back; giving one last cheer before finally starting to disperse.

* * *

Watching Blaine Devon Anderson box, was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Period.

Once he’d gotten over his shock at the mass of scars covering the smaller boy’s body, he was instantly turned on by the muscles rippling underneath them. The five-six boy; was covered in sweat, his eyes were dark and his hair was a mass of thick, dark curls. It was as though someone had carved him from fucking marble. Sure, he could probably stand to gain a few pounds, but fuck if Sebastian was ever going to find fault in him elsewhere.

He was a fucking God.

He couldn’t stop staring. Not when Blaine first appeared in the ring, not when he started to fight, and _certainly_ not now; when his face was split into a massive grin and his arm was being held aloft by Harwood. His pupils were blown wide; making his hazel eyes appear black, and Lindley had managed a lucky shot; cutting open his right eyebrow and trickling blood into his eye; only to be blinked out by sinfully long eyelashes.

He was done for.

Nothing and no one would _ever_ measure up to the perfection of watching this gorgeous, perfect, fucking human being; grin like a loon as he slowly dripped blood and sweat onto the canvas.

Sebastian let out a very tiny, not at all noticeable groan as Blaine’s eyes found his; and he covered it with a few shaking fingers to the strappings Nick had wrapped around his chest.

“Are you okay?” His cousin asked from the side of him, and he nodded; his eyes never leaving Blaine’s. Beat looked between the pair of them and decided it was time for a little family talk; so, he pulled his cousin towards the changing rooms by his hand.

“What the fuck Eddie?” Sebastian snarled as the younger boy pushed him down onto one of the benches.

“We need to talk.” Was his unimpressed reply. “Devon is not another conquest you can throw away when you’re done with. Do you understand me?”

“Ed…”

“Yes or no question Stan.” Beat snapped with a glare. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Blaine is _not_ ready for the kind of intimacy you have just been imagining so get your head out of the fucking gutter and pay attention.” Sebastian looked up at Beat, and realised that his cousin had a far better handle on his hormones than he did. “You have been told about Hummel, yes?” He nodded. “Then you know how close he and Blaine were.” Another nod. “Did you know that Blaine had to talk to Hummel senior about giving his son the sex talk?” Sebastian’s eyes went wide at that.

“He what?”

“According to Wes, Blaine went looking for the information, and it was only an intervention by Trent that stopped him throwing away his virginity to a boy who friended him on Facebook. For how he acts, Devon is worryingly underdeveloped in the emotions department and you can thank his parents and six guys with baseball bats and sharps for it. So, doing any of those things that are running through your head right now would fucking _destroy_ him before either of you could climax.”

“Where the fuck are _you_ learning about that kind stuff?”

“I’m a sixteen-year-old boy with hormones Stan, work it the fuck out.” Beat snapped. “We’re not here to discuss me, we’re here to discuss Devon, and the enormous amount of damage you could do if you treat him like you do the rest of you fucktoys back in Paris. He’s not ready for that level of intimacy and you could undo two years’ worth of work in minutes, so start using your big head rather than your little one, and remember why you’re here.” Sebastian sighed and ran a hand through his hair; dropping his head into his palms as he tried to control the itch under his skin.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’ve only been here a week and I’m already fucking it up.”

“It’s Devon.” Beat replied with a shrug. “I guarantee you that we’ve all been there. But for how incredibly hot and sexy he is, he’s also a decent human being, one which you could hurt badly if it all goes wrong. You need to be sure that you can separate what you saw tonight from the boy he is behind closed doors. You need to be absolutely positive that you want to do this, before you get yourself in too deep with a situation you can’t handle.” Sebastian groaned again.

“Why are you better at this than I am?” He asked.

“Because I’ve had _much_ more practice at hiding my feelings.” Beat replied softly; sitting down next to his cousin. “You don’t realise how lucky you’ve been, living in Europe, fucking every man with a pulse and not having to face the ugly consequences of that. Ohio isn’t as accepting as Paris Stan, and even Blaine has _some_ internalized homophobia. It’s natural given how his parents treat him. You have to be so careful here.”

“Do you have feelings for him?” Sebastian asked; his green eyes meeting Beat’s as he searched for an honest answer from the younger boy.

“I did, at one time.” Beat replied with a shrug. “I watched him go from a scared, broken shell to an amazing, confident human being. I watched him grow into the person everyone sees out in the corridors. I watched his transformation into the front man for The Warblers, and it took me all of a week to fall in love, feel disgusted with myself and fall back out. I felt dirty, as though even fantasising about him was pissing over everything he’d gone through. Like I was sullying something pure. We’re like brothers now, and I know that neither of us hold any feelings for each other beyond platonic friendship.”

“He told me you’d shared a bed.”

“Did he tell you why?” Sebastian nodded and Beat sighed. “His nights are anything but peaceful.” He said quietly. “The first night it happened I was terrified. I’d been sleeping on their floor on a camp bed, and he woke up, screaming into his pillow. As soon as I got onto the bed with him, as soon as I reached out, he relaxed. We spent the night curled up together and I was able to give guys the news that he was suffering from a headache the next morning. I could feel his jaw clenching against my head. He needs love Stan. Not sex.”

“What do _you_ need?”

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly with a shrug. “I don’t know what I am yet. I don’t feel anything for other guys, but I have not yet felt anything for girls either. Maybe I’m searching, maybe I’m just not into it, I don’t really know. But I _do_ know that I won’t turn to Blaine when I find it. He’s not what I’m looking for.”

“I think this is the most honest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“It’s the most important one.” Beat responded; finally getting up and grabbing his bag. “Think about what I’ve said, and please try not to fuck it up.” The younger boy left the changing room and headed back up to the school; leaving Sebastian deep in thought.

* * *

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking?” Trent snapped as he pushed open the door to their dorm. He was sore, he was tired and all he wanted to do was to have a hot shower, curl up in bed and cry. The conversation with Sebastian had been harder than he’d expected it to be, and he felt like he’d been wrung out like a washcloth. “You could have been seriously hurt.”

“Not now Trent.” He muttered; dropping his bag at the foot of his bed and disappearing into the bathroom. He turned the shower up as hot as it would go and stood under it for much longer than strictly necessary. He told himself that he wasn’t avoiding Trent, but it sounded like a lie.

Eventually he shut the water off, got out and brushed his teeth, studying the already forming bruises on his face in the steamed-up bathroom mirror. He winced as he prodded a red blotch near his eye, where Stan had landed the lucky shot after he’d goaded him. He’d known that Trent was going to be furious with him, but he and Stan had been sniping at each other all week, and they’d both needed to blow off some steam. They loved each other, but _God_ if they didn’t annoy the fuck out of each other at the same time.

He was still worried about his cousin’s involvement with Blaine, but Trent knew what he was doing, and perhaps both boys would be good for each other. Blaine certainly would help to iron out some of Stan’s less attractive traits, and in turn his cousin would give Blaine the confidence boost he really needed. He told himself that this could _work_ and surprisingly it _didn’t_ sound like lie. He sighed and took one last look at his developing bruises, before wrapping his towel around his waist and opening the door, back into their room.

“I’m sorry.” Trent said softly as he dug through his drawers for a pair of sweats and a vest. The older boy was sat on his bed, visibly much calmer than he had been when he’d first got back, and he had a look of remorse that made him feel like a right shit for worrying his roommate in the first place. “You just surprised me is all.”

“I’m a big boy Trent.” He said at last, once he’d found his nightwear, and he straightened up, ready to disappear back into the bathroom to change. “I know that you care, and I know that you worry about me. But I’m _not_ Devon. I can look after myself both in the ring and out. And, while I’m eternally grateful for your love and support, I don’t need wrapping in cotton wool. You never have before, so please don’t start doing it now.”

“I guess I’ve been projecting a little more than usual, haven’t I?” Trent asked guiltily. Beat sighed and sat next to the older boy, wrapping his arms around his waist and snuggling into his side.

“You care about us Trent.” He whispered. “And I’m so grateful that you do. I’m sorry I worried you tonight, but Stan and I needed that, and neither of us would have seriously hurt the other.”

“I know.” They sat in silence for a minute; Trent’s hands coming to rest over his own.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Can I go get changed now?” Trent chuckled at that and nodded his head. He quickly disappeared back into the bathroom and pulled on the sweats and the vest; wincing slightly as his stiff shoulders protested. He was going to ache in the morning. He left the bathroom and found Trent in bed, sat against some pillows and reading his phone with a small frown.

“Is Devon okay?” He asked, assuming that his roommate was texting Wes.

“Nick says that Wes has been shouting at him for the last fifteen minutes.” Trent replied with a wince. “I think tonight was more than Wes’s nerves could handle.”

“Should we go and rescue him?”

“No, this is something they need to work out for themselves. We’ve all been a bit over-protective of him lately. Perhaps Wes should have fought him, like he’d planned to.” Beat mulled over that as he slipped into bed; hoping that Blaine was going to be okay.

* * *

“What the fuck were you thinking? Do you plan on sending me to my grave early? Do you realise what would have happened tonight if _any_ of you got hurt? God damn it Devon I thought we were getting better at this!” Blaine was stood in the middle of their dorm, now starting to shiver from the cooled sweat that had soaked into his gym gear. His eyes were pointedly fixed on the carpet as Wes continued his rant. “You have no fucking idea what you did to me tonight, how could you be so damn foolish?” Blaine’s breathed hitched as he realised that Wes had come dangerously close to using _that_ word, and he felt his resolve snap.

“Shut up.” He half whimpered. “Just _shut_ up.”

“No, you are going to fucking listen to me this time.” Wes growled, moving to grab hold of one of Blaine’s hands.

It happened before he even realised what he’d done.

It happened before his mind had even processed what his hands were doing.

And suddenly he had thrown a punch at his roommate; Wes going down like a sack of vegetables; back onto his bed, his nose bursting open and spilling blood everywhere as a result of Blaine trying and failing to hold in his anger. The young boy stood there, panting; not even managing to register what he’d done as his nails cut little half moons into his palms.

“I said, _shut_ _up_.” He hissed; grabbing his fleece and storming out of the dorm, no destination in mind, except that it had to be far away from Wes.


	36. I Love You Baby, But my Lips are Turning Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the bottom of the chapter for the notes.

“How the fuck could you have been so _stupid_?” Trent yelled at Wes, as his anger finally snapped. They’d searched the school from top to bottom, and were now checking the out buildings, but there was no sign of Blaine, and it didn’t look like there was going to be one any time soon. It was nearing one in the morning, and the temperature had dropped significantly, but whereas they were all in jackets and sweats, Wes had told them that Blaine had merely pulled on a fleece over his soaked gym gear.

“I know!” Wes shouted back; his hands balling into fists as tears started to fill his eyes. “I _know_ I’ve fucked up, but we _have_ to find him. He’s in nothing but his shorts and his fleece.”

“Should we tell someone?” Ethan asked; worrying his lip. The group consisted of Grant, Daniel, Sebastian, Logan, Evan, Beat, and all of the senior Warblers, as Beat had knocked on Evan’s door, who in turn had woken up the other four. Sebastian had heard the noise outside his dorm, as he was getting changed, and had abandoned his planned Xbox all-nighter, to join in the search for Blaine. They had stormed the school; splitting up into groups to cover the building quickly and methodically, but their search had yielded no results.

“No.” Thad said sharply. “We keep looking. If the FC is found out, a lot of us, including Blaine could end up in real trouble.

“Look around Harwood.” Logan snarled. “We _are_ in real trouble. If we don’t find Anderson then all of us could end up in the shit for keeping quiet.”

“We keep looking.” Thad said; shaking his head. “We give it another hour and then we decide if we want to rope in some help. But for now, let’s just keep going.”

“Nixon, Lindley and Eddie, go and check the gym.” Sebastian said; taking charge when it was clear they were about to dissolve into more arguing. “Harwood, Thompson and Pike, you take the lacrosse and polo sheds. Montgomery, Wright and Fletcher you take the FC building and I’ll take Jessop, Duval and Sterling to go and check the school out again.”

“Who put you in charge?” Beat muttered.

“This lot,” Sebastian snarked back; gesturing to the seniors. “when they decided to push him far enough to throw an un-gloved punch and run off. Face it, you’ve all fucked up and now its us who are going to have to clean up this mess. You might want to start packing your things Montgomery, there’s no way he’s rooming with you for the rest of the year. I’ll have him in with me if needs be, but I’m not letting any of you fuckwits near him after what you did tonight.”

“How is this on _all_ of us?” David growled.

“You’re telling me that none of you would have had the same fucking conversation with him if this asshole hadn’t got to him first? Are you honestly telling me that none of you were going to go off on him for fighting? Blaine isn’t a fucking _child_. He might struggle with emotions, but what hormonal seventeen-year-old _doesn’t_? You treat him like he’s made of glass, whilst trying to convince him that he’s strong enough to go it alone. In doing so, you’re forgetting that actions speak louder than words, and you’re showing him that he’s not enough, reinforcing that idea whenever he has a hiccup.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about Smythe.” Wes growled.

“Don’t I? You tiptoed around him for a full day this week because they ran out of caramel coffee syrup in the dining hall. Fucking _coffee_ _syrup_. It was like you were expecting him to cry or something. I get you’ve all had a rough time of it this last month, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, but what you’re doing isn’t healthy for him. You need to let him grow.”

“You’re right.” Beat whispered. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, and if you ever tell anyone I agreed with you on something I will show you no mercy, but Devon _isn’t_ a child, and all of us carrying on like this isn’t doing him any favours. Didn’t you all have a falling out because he was feeling suffocated? The same mistakes are being made and it’s Blaine that’s suffering.” The group of seniors didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and all had their heads hung low as they realised that the two cousins were right.

“What’s important now is to find him.” Ethan butted in, trying to dispel some of the tension. “Thad, David, let’s go do what Sebastian suggested and try the sports sheds.” He started walking off, throwing a look over his shoulder that got the pair moving.

“Trent, Beat?” Evan asked softly. “You guys coming?” Both nodded and split off; Beat automatically threading his fingers through Trent’s; knowing that his roommate needed the comfort.

“Let’s go Montgomery.” Logan said stiffly; David already heading towards the FC shed. Wes threw one last look at Sebastian before nodding and following the two juniors.

“You have made your point.” Nick said softly; holding onto Jeff who looked close to tears. “But Pike is right, we need to concentrate on finding him now.”

“I know that you care about him.” Sebastian replied with a sigh. “And I know that this whole situation has come about because you’re trying to protect him, but Nixon and Montgomery have gotten themselves in _deep_ , and I’m not sure if it’s healthy for any of them. I owe Nixon a lot, he’s watched over Eddie for me, and for that I will always be grateful, but this situation with Blaine is all a bit much.”

“You didn’t see him when he first came here.” Jeff whispered; shaking his head.

“I know that, but I am seeing him _now_. Are you telling me that he still needs protecting as much as he did in the early days? You’ve all told me the story, I know his history now, but he isn’t that terrified kid anymore. He’s strong, caring and right now very angry. Come on guys, you know this place better than I do, where would he go?” Nick and Jeff looked at each other for a moment before a realisation set in.

“You’ve remembered something.” Grant said softly. “Tell us.”

“Did we check?” Jeff whispered; shaking his head at Nick.

“I don’t know.” His boyfriend replied. “I thought Wes did it.”

“What is it?” Sebastian asked snappishly. Niff looked at each other before sprinting towards the school at top speed. The two younger boys followed; barely keeping up despite their fitness.

* * *

He was cold.

He knew he was cold because his body wouldn’t stop shaking. He was curled up tightly; his knees to his chest and his hands tucked into the space in between, in a bid to keep them warm. After Wes had discovered his stash in the Warbler office, he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t bring anything else down here.

He was regretting that decision.

He was regretting a lot of decisions. Had Kurt been right? Were they stifling him? Controlling him? He liked who he had been, but he wasn’t sure if he liked what he’d become. The last month had left its mark, and he wasn’t sure he liked the person who had come out of the other side.

Perhaps he should have gone to McKinley with Kurt.

Despite the fact that he obviously had a lot of flaws, Kurt still loved him, and had tried to show him how to be better. Kurt wasn’t afraid to point out when he was being too much, or when his tapping became annoying, or when his hair looked a mess. Kurt was brutally honest about him, and perhaps that is what he needed.

Had he been manipulated into seeing Kurt as the bad guy?

He was worried for the other boy. About how he was getting on with his bullies, about whether their glee club had started practising for Nationals yet and whether Kurt had a solo. He was worried that he’d messed things up to the point of there being no chance for reconciliation. He was worried that the other guys had bullied him out of Dalton, and whether he was going to be next.

He was so cold.

He moaned lowly in pain as he curled himself tighter; his sore muscles protesting against the movement. He’d not stretched out, or showered, or iced any of his bruises, and he knew that he was going to look a complete mess in the morning. Wes would throw a hissy fit at the fact that he smelt like a locker room.

Wes.

He’d hit _Wes_. He’d lashed out at the one person who had practically given up their high school career for him. He’d done exactly what Trent had promised him he wouldn’t. He’d hurt Wes, and he’d _enjoyed_ it. It was his own fault.

Everything about this fucked up situation was his fault.

He’d flaunted his sexuality in front of others. He’d provoked an attack by going with that boy to the school dance. The boy whose name he couldn’t even remember. The boy who might have lived or died, and Blaine couldn’t be sure because he’d never seen him again. It was his own fault that his head had got beaten in, and his lungs had filled with blood. It was his own fault that his parents had been forced to spend a shit tonne of money on medical fees, and then again on private education.

And he’d repaid them by coming out of the attack still a fag. Only now he was a retarded one.

Unstable.

That’s what his parents had made the family lawyer tell the court. Unstable and unpredictable. Prone to outbursts of aggression and anger. Unable to understand society’s rules and at risk of becoming a child delinquent. Needs a firm hand, and cannot be completely trusted to tell the truth, or be able to recall things perfectly, because of the injury to the brain.

He was so cold, only now the ice had spread to his insides too.

* * *

“Do you really think we’ve fucked up that badly?” Trent asked; gripping Beat’s hand as they followed Evan across the grounds.

“I think we all need to just take a few steps back.” The younger boy replied softly. “We had a good week this week, no nightmares, no meltdowns, things have been stable. If it wasn’t for tonight, I would have been convinced that we were all ready for next year.”

“Blaine’s ready.” Evan butted in from just in front of them. “If there is anything, I’m in no doubt of, then it’s that he’s ready. The rest of you however… I think you all need to take what the cousins have said to heart. Blaine is outgoing, chatty, he’s had no problems fitting in with me, Beat and Ethan. We’ve all been getting on really well, and Grant and Dan are good guys.”

“I know where you’re all coming from.” Trent said with a sigh. “But it’s not as easy as you all make it sound.”

“Hey listen.” Beat said gently; stopping and pulling Trent towards him. “Don’t do this to yourself. You have done amazing things for him Trent, and I know that he really does love you guys. I know that there are problems for the summer with his parents, I know that you are worried sick about him going home, and I know that you are terrified of what’s going to happen next year. But these are all things that Blaine is going to have to work through himself. He won’t be alone, none of us are going anywhere, but you guys now need to take a step backwards if you have any chance of salvaging what’s left of your senior year, _or_ your relationship with him.”

“What if we can’t?” Trent whispered.

“You _will_. He loves you; everyone can see how much. You just have to trust him.”

“Guys.” Evan called out when his phone chirped in his pocket. “They’ve found him.”

* * *

“Oh my God, Blaine!” Nick cried out brokenly as the younger boy practically collapsed out of the cupboard when they’d almost ripped the doors off of their hinges. The boy moaned out in pain; his eyes rolling back into his head as Jeff cradled it in his lap.

“Out of the way.” Sebastian ordered sharply; pulling a water bottle out of his backpack, along with a pair of hand warmers. Nick scurried around to the other side and watched the taller boy work as he gently tipped the water bottle into Blaine’s mouth. “Drink for me B.” He said softly. “Je t’ai maintenant.” He gave the bottle to Grant with the soft order to keep getting Blaine to drink, and he snapped the hand warmers to activate them.

“What are you doing?" Nick asked frantically when he started to divest Blaine of his fleece and soaked gym vest.

“Getting him warm.” Was Sebastian’s sharp reply; pulling off his hoodie and putting it on Blaine. He dug around in his backpack again and pulled out a scarf; using it to bind the handwarmers to Blaine’s chest and back; over the hoodie. “His gear is soaked and we need to get his core warm, but I can’t put the hand warmers straight on his chest, or I risk causing heart problems.”

“His lips are blue.” Jeff whispered.

“Jessop, run up to the dorms and start gathering as many towels out of the airing cupboards as you can. If you have to clear out the whole floor then do it. We need warm towels and sheets.”

“I’m on it.” The dark-haired boy replied with a nod; passing the water bottle to Sebastian before taking off again. There was another moan from Blaine and Sebastian gently brushed his curls away from his face.

“Tu vas si bien.” He whispered. “Tiens bon pour moi.” He lifted the smaller boy clean out of Jeff’s lap and into his arms; cradling him against his chest in a bid to share his body heat. “Grab my bag.” He ordered; stalking off, out of the rooms; leaving Nick and Jeff no choice but to follow him out.

He tried hard not to think about how light the boy in his arms was, or how small he felt; dwarfed in his lacrosse hoodie; curls just peeking out. He felt his breath hitch when Blaine stiffened up, and he paused on the stairs in case he had to lower him back to the ground. A frown pulled at Blaine’s eyebrows and his breath stuttered before he went limp once more, and Sebastian picked up the pace; taking the stairs two at a time; thankful for his longer stride.

“I’ve texted Evan.” Grant said once he reached his dorms. “But I’ve made sure to tell him to give you space to work.”

“Can you help me with him?” Sebastian asked; propping Blaine up at the side of the bath. “We need to strip him down to his boxers.”

“Stan…”

“Look Jessop, get over yourself, this is about helping him now. We need to get him out of these wet shorts, and under the blankets as soon as possible.” Grant nodded and shook himself off; helping the taller boy strip Blaine and lower him gently onto the bed; packing towels underneath him _and_ spreading them on top; throwing over two spare quilts for good measure. “I need hot sweet tea, preferably de-caff.” Grant nodded and took off again.

“Is he going to be okay?” Jeff whispered from where he and Nick were watching by the door.

“He’s got mild hypothermia, but his pulse is strong and he keeps moaning, so he’s at least partially alert.” Sebastian answered in a clipped tone. “You need to keep the others away for as long as possible to give me room to monitor his breathing and heartrate.”

“Can’t you put him in the bath?”

“Not unless you want him to go into cardiac arrest.” He sniped back at what he perceived to be a stupid question from Nick. At that moment Trent flew into the dorm; pushing past Nick and Jeff with a huge mug of tea and a spoon. Grant followed after him; stopping at the door and taking up a defensive position to prevent anyone else from entering.

“How is he?”

“Mild Hypothermia but his breathing and pulse are both strong and steady.” Sebastian answered; taking the mug and the spoon from Trent. He carefully filled the spoon with tea; making sure to cool it off before lifting it towards Blaine’s mouth. He tipped it in and gently massaged the younger boy’s Adam’s apple; encouraging him to swallow before repeating the process.

He _had_ to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will be the last chapter for at least a few days, as I settle into work. I know that I've left it on a really bad cliff hanger, and I'm sorry, but I had hoped to finish the next one before I went. I have a long drive in the morning so I need to go to bed, but keep an eye out possibly at the weekend or early next week for an update. 
> 
> I know that this seems like another huge curveball, and I'm really sorry to do this to you guys, but I'm setting up a plot line for summer, and this was the only way I could do it. Please bear with me on this.
> 
> Again, I apologise for my rudimentary French.


	37. Sticky Tape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I have another chapter written and one more in the works, but seeing as I'll be able to get Wifi all weekend, you guys are just going to have to wait for the other two. Hope you enjoy this in the meantime though, and let me know what you all think!

Blaine woke to fingers carding through his hair, and someone singing to him quietly, in French. He made an attempt to recall what had happened the previous night, but it was coming back, all jumbled up. He remembered thinking about Kurt, and McKinley. He remembered being cold. He remembered Wes shouting and the sight of blood. Had he been bleeding? Had he gotten hurt in his fight? He dismissed that idea; he’d fought Evan, and they wouldn’t have hurt each other, _and_ he partially remembered winning. So where had the blood come from, why had he been cold?

“Devon? Can you hear me?” That was Beat. Why was Beat with him? “Devon can you open your eyes for me so that I know you’re okay?” He frowned and blinked his eyes open; squinting at the bright sunlight in the room. “Thank god, you’re alive.” Beat cried; wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tightly. “I was so worried about you.”

“What happened?” He asked hoarsely.

“We found you downstairs, freezing your ass off in a cupboard.” Came Sebastian’s reply from somewhere over near the bathroom. The older boy stepped into his view, with a strange, half smile. “Welcome back, Killer.”

“Where’s Wes?” He could remember Wes shouting at him. Had his roommate kicked him out? “Why am I here?” He watched as Beat and Sebastian shared a look and felt panic rise in his chest. “Tell me.”

“What do you remember?” Beat asked gently; easing him up into a sitting position and smoothing his curls back from his face.

“I was cold, and Wes was shouting, and there was blood. Did he get hurt?”

“Nick told us that he’d been shouting at you for nearly twenty minutes, and that you hadn’t even managed to get in the shower before he started telling you off. You know that you did nothing wrong, right?” Beat asked softly. “We all know that neither you or Evan were in any danger of getting hurt last night.”

“We wouldn’t have hurt each other.” Blaine confirmed with a shake of his head. “Is that what happened? Did Wes get angry?”

“I think everything was just a bit much for him last night. Stan and I probably didn’t help, but Wes really shouldn’t have shouted at you like that. No one blames you for what you did.”

“Wait, what did I do?” Blaine asked, panicking.

“You decked him.” Sebastian replied; bluntly. “He fucking deserved it too. From what Duval and Nixon told me he’d said some God-awful shit to you. Christ, I’d have decked him in less than two minutes for talking to you like that, you managed twenty.”

“I hit him?” Blaine breathed out; his eyes wide.

“It’s okay Devon.” Beat soothed; his hands going out to steady the older boy. “Wes is okay, he just had a nose bleed. You didn’t hurt him badly. Besides, he more than deserved it, he was completely out of order last night.”

“I have to go to him.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Sebastian replied sharply; moving to intercept Blaine who had rolled out of the covers; away from Beat and was heading for the door. “Not until you’ve had a shower, put some clothes on and had some breakfast. Eddie tells me you like pastries and coffee, but the caffeine isn’t going to help your stress levels so I’m giving you tea instead. Now get in the shower and Shortcake here will grab the pastries.”

“Don’t call me that.” Beat hissed; without any real bite. Sebastian merely grinned at him and turned his attention back towards Blaine; crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Get in the shower Killer, before I carry you in and dump you in the bath myself.” Blaine growled but complied; slamming the bathroom door behind him.

“This is not going to end well.” Beat muttered; heading out of the dorm.

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Trent asked; watching Wes sip his tea in bed. He’d spent the night in the other boy’s dorm; using the fold out bed, rather than taking Blaine’s and neither of them had gotten much sleep; the situation they had put themselves in; keeping them up. Wes especially; looked like crap, and it was clear from the way he was nursing his drink that he didn’t have much of an appetite either.

“Like I got punched by Blaine.” His friend replied darkly. He sighed and sat down at the side of Wes; sliding his arm around him and pulling him towards his side. “I can’t fucking believe how stupid I was last night.” He muttered.

“You’ve been through a lot. You were bound to snap at some point.”

“But not at _him_. Not like that. I can’t even fucking fix it because Smythe is holding him hostage.”

“Don’t be mad at Sebastian.” Trent said calmly. “He’s doing what he thinks is best for him. Crowding around Blaine would only have made him feel even more suffocated, and he wasn’t in any fit state last night to even acknowledge you were there. Just be thankful that they got to him when they did, and that Seb knew what to do.”

“It was hypothermia.” Wes snarled. “I fucking took his stash away from the cupboard and made him promise not to take anything else down there. He got hypothermia because I was a fucking asshole. I _knew_ that he wasn’t always comfortable in here, I _knew_ that, and yet I made him _promise_.”

“Don’t do this to yourself. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen.” Trent said softly. “You couldn’t have predicted that we wouldn’t be able to find him.”

“He was in a _cupboard_ Trent.” Wes’s voice broke slightly and his eyes teared up. “He was sleeping in a fucking cupboard.”

“I know.” Trent whispered; taking Wes’s mug and putting it on the desk before wrapping him in a hug. “I know Wes, but we can’t dwell on what he does when he’s in that state. We can’t try and guess what goes through his mind, or why. All we can do is deal with what comes, and try and be there for him.”

“How did things get so fucked up?” Wes sobbed into his shoulder. “How did this happen?”

“Listen to me.” Trent said gently; pulling back to make eye contact. “We’ve been through so much worse and come out of the other side. We can get through this too. We just have to stay strong for just a few more weeks. We’re almost there Wes.”

“How can we almost be there when we’re going to do nothing but worry about him next year? How can _I_ be there? If I was scared before, I’m fucking terrified now.”

“I know, but we have to believe that things are going to be okay. We have to believe that your dad is going to get him through this next year, and that Beat and Sebastian and all of the others are going to be here for him. We just have that final push to get everything in place now.”

“And then what, we wash our hands of him?” Wes spat out; pulling away from his friend and getting up to start pacing the dorm. “That we deal with the next few weeks and then that will be it? It’s over? I can’t fucking leave him Trent. I _can’t_.”

“Yes, you _can_. Not only that, you _must_. Just like Sebastian and Beat were saying, our actions speak a lot louder than words, especially after last night, and right now our actions are telling Blaine that we don’t trust him. That we think he’s incapable. I mean Jesus Christ Wes, you’re talking about jeopardising your own education for him, how must that make him feel? There comes a time when every bird has to fly, and Blaine has been ready for far longer than we give him credit for.”

“It’s hard.” Wes admitted; slumping slightly; his anger gone.

“I know it is. But we all can do this. Blaine _can_ get through next year, and we _can_ go to college and leave him in the hands of others. We can’t be here forever Wes, despite how much we want to be.” A knock at the door garnered their attention and Wes took a deep breath before answering.

* * *

“What’s wrong?”

“What if he’s mad at me?”

“Then we deal with it together.”

“Maybe I should knock.”

“It’s _your_ dorm Dev, you shouldn’t have to.”

“But…”

“No buts.” Beat sighed; moving to take hold of Blaine’s hand. He’d gotten stuck at his door, and was staring at it as though it was an eight-foot-thick slab of concrete, blocking his way. “Just go in Dev.”

“I’m going to knock.” Blaine replied; shaking his head and raising his fist before Beat could say another word against it. The older boy was squeezing his hand like a vice, and he could practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The door opened to reveal Wes; glassy eyed and with a slight bruise on his cheek, but visibly far from the anger Blaine had been worried about. “May I come in?”

“You don’t have to ask Dev.” Wes whispered; moving out of the way of the door so that the two younger boys could enter the dorm. “You never have to ask.”

“After last night, I think I do.” Blaine replied, stiffly. “I have no right to be here after what I did.”

“You _always_ have a right.” Wes replied; his voice breaking slightly. “I told you that this is a safe space.” Blaine flinched at that and pulled Beat over to his bed, sitting them both down on the edge; his back as stiff as a board. He nodded at Trent, but didn’t trust his voice, so that was the only greeting his other mentor received before he fixed his eyes on the opposite wall.

“Wesley, I want to apologise for hitting you last night. No matter what happened, or what was said; it was out of order, and I shouldn’t have gotten physical with you. So, I’m sorry, and I understand if you need to report me. I’m also sorry for causing so much panic last night, especially to you Prefect Nixon. I put you in danger of getting in trouble with the faculty and it was irresponsible of me to run off and put you in that position.” Wes and Trent looked at each other with tears gathering in their eyes. Blaine had reverted to his defence mode; meaning formalities behind a hard exterior and a flat, monotone voice. This was _not_ how they’d planned this morning to go.

“Blaine…”

“If it’s okay with the both of you, Sophomore Windsor and I will be moving in together at the earliest opportunity.” Blaine continued; his voice rising as he tried to keep the façade in place. “Until that happens, I request to room with Junior Smythe, I don’t think this situation is working out, and I wish to remove myself from it as soon as possible.”

“I can get that sorted for you both.” Trent said softly. “Easily.”

“Very well.” Blaine said; not making eye contact with either of them; but staring pointedly at the wall across from him as he nodded once. “Thank you for your time.” He stood up and pulled Beat back out of the room, still unable to make eye contact with either senior and Beat threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder, allowing himself to be led out by his classmate; knowing that saying anything would cause an escalation.

The slamming of the door behind them was like a gunshot.

* * *

“I don’t get it.” Jeff whispered to Nick, who was curled up into his side. They had slept the previous night; in a tangle of arms and legs; both shaking with tears that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. “I don’t get why last night happened the way it did.”

“Neither do I.” His boyfriend whispered. “But Wes was out of order, and Blaine had every right to do what he did. We sat here and listened to him shout for twenty minutes.”

“We should have intervened.”

“So should Trent, or Beat, or even Blaine himself. He could have quite easily have taken control of that conversation.”

“Then why didn’t he?”

“Because it was _Wes_.” Nick sighed. “And we all know that Blaine wouldn’t have it in him. No wonder he snapped.”

“Don’t say that.” Jeff whispered with a half sob. “It makes him sound like a psycho.”

“I’m sorry.” Nick replied gently; pulling Jeff closer to him. “I didn’t mean to sound callous.”

“How did we fuck it up so badly?” The blond boy was full on sobbing now and there was nothing Nick could do but hold onto him. “How did we not _see_?”

“The same reason Wes did what he did. We’re all blinded when it comes to Blaine. We can’t see past what he was, to realise what he _is_. As much as the guy is a prick, Smythe had a few good points last night.”

“I’m scared Nick.”

“I know. I am too, but we’ll get through this, just as we always do.”

“But everything was getting better. _We_ were getting better.” Nick didn’t have anything to say to that; so, he simply tightened his hold on Jeff and let him cry into his shoulder.

He really didn’t have another option.

* * *

“Why don’t we talk?” Beat asked softly. “About what you were feeling last night.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Blaine replied; shaking his head. He pulled up his façade once more and readied himself for an argument.

“But you and I both know that you _need_ to.” Beat whispered. “Come on Devon, it’s only me.” He watched as the older boy’s bottom lip started to tremble and he wrapped his arms around his classmate; feeling Blaine’s heart; break all over his shoulder. “You’re okay now.” He whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“It’s like nothing has been right this month.” Blaine sobbed. “I feel as though I’ve done nothing but put sticky tape over the cracks, and I can’t hold the pieces together anymore.” Beat’s own heart broke a little at that admission, and he realised that Blaine had only shown them what they’d wanted to see from him. They’d been telling him how strong he was, and so he’d strived to be just that, sacrificing god knows how many feelings and thoughts in order to do it. Had they really been so blind to it all? “I can’t do this any longer.”

“You don’t have to.” Beat replied softly. “You never have to hide what you’re feeling Devon. That sticky tape shouldn’t be there. I’m just so sorry that we’ve made you feel as though you weren’t enough, that you had to put it there in the first place to please us. But you can let go now, it’s okay. We’ll still be here, even if you fall apart.”

“I can’t.” The older boy sobbed. “I don’t know how.”

“Then start at the beginning.” Beat whispered. “Tell me about the first piece of tape. Treat it like a graze. You have to take the Band-Aid off to allow it to scab over, it’s just the initial rip that is painful.” It took a minute but Blaine’s breathing evened out and he started to talk.

“Kurt told me he was jealous… About me getting solos. He said it was like singing in ‘ _Blaine_ _and the Pips_ ’.” If Beat didn’t already hold a significant amount of dislike for Kurt Hummel, that small admission from his friend would have convinced him. “I couldn’t sleep so I went to the piano and Wes found me.”

“That’s the night they had to look for you.” Beat whispered; feeling Blaine nod against his shoulder. “He told Kurt the next morning, that he should have complained to the council, and Kurt got angry with me.”

“The breakfast that started all of this.” Another statement, and another nod.

“Trent needed to get me up to the dorm, so I had to pull myself out of a flashback.”

“And instead of talking about it, or admitting it, you stuck tape over it?” Another nod. They were getting the hang of this. “How many times have you done that these last few weeks?” He asked. “How many times have you had to pull yourself back from the edge?”

“Too many.” Was the small reply and he tightened his hold on the older boy; listening to him as Blaine poured his heart out for the first time in what felt like forever.

Like pulling off a Band-Aid.


	38. Ash and Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to split this fic into books, because it turns out that being back at work is actually very stimulating. I have written all the way up to chapter 40, plus four chapters of the new book, and let me tell you guys, it did not go in the direction I had originally planned. I may end up writing two versions of the second book, depending on how the first one is received, so don't be afraid to let me know your thoughts on where this story is going.

“How is he?” Sebastian asked quietly, when he made it back to the dorm, that evening. Blaine had evidently fallen asleep against his cousin’s shoulder, and all he could see of the boy was his mass of black curls and his right cheek; red from what he assumed were copious amounts of tears. He didn’t do crying, that was Eddie’s department.

“Hurting.” His younger cousin replied. “But I think he’s going to be okay.” Sebastian let out a small sigh of relief at that; thankful that Eddie had been here. “Where were you all day?”

“Debriefing the others.” Sebastian replied. “It was evident that seniors weren’t going to do it, so I called a meeting of my own.”

“How did they take it?”

“Apart from the fact that Pike and Lindley are about ready to storm up here and take him from us? I’d say they took it pretty well. Jessop was a huge help last night, and I think we can trust him. Wright however…” Sebastian trailed off with a dark look.

“Did he cause problems?”

“He suggested going to the headmaster and telling him everything. I managed to deter him but we’re going to need to keep an eye on the situation. I’ve set Fletcher on him for the minute. If he even sneezes or wipes his arse, then Dan will let me know. You know how I feel about snitches.”

“Do you think he _will_ tell?”

“I think it’s all dependant on what happens over the next couple of days. He wasn’t happy that the Warblers have missed another weekend of rehearsals, and then I pointed out that he had the sheets and the tracks, and that he could easily have gathered some of the others up for a small practise of his own.”

“I take it didn’t go down well?”

“Not until I reminded him that Blaine had tried to take a back seat, in order for people like him to step up to the plate. He has all the leadership material of a goldfish.”

“I’m not sure any of the seniors are going to be up to a full-scale rehearsal tomorrow either.” Beat said quietly. “Perhaps _you_ should put something together.”

“I’m not even a Warbler yet.” Sebastian snorted. “I can’t see them being all to happy with me coming in and taking over.”

“They will if you manage to convince Blaine to do it with us. He won’t have to get too involved, just be there, and I think it will do him good to get out of these dorms for the morning. We’ve travelled between here and Wes’s once, and that’s been it for the day.”

“Have either of you eaten?” Beat shook his head and chuckled when his cousin muttered about keeping him healthy and fed. “We could order pizza.” He said softly. “There’s a little place around the corner that delivers onto campus.”

“Is he going to be up for it?” He asked; nodding towards Blaine; who was still out of it.

“We won’t know unless we try.” Beat replied; lifting his shoulder slightly so that Blaine was forced to turn his face. “Come on Devon, try to wake up for me. I know you’re tired but we can go back to sleep in a bit.”

“Leave me alone.” Blaine mumbled; clearly still asleep. Beat chuckled and gently lifted the older boy off of his shoulder.

“Come on Dev, otherwise Stan will have to get involved.” Blaine groaned and finally sat up; glaring at the pair of them with sleepy eyes. “We’re ordering pizza. What would you like?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s not an answer Dev. We all fought last night, and none of us have eaten anything since breakfast. I know you’re hungry because _I_ am. What you mean is that you don’t have an appetite, which is _still_ not a good enough reason not to eat. So, let’s try this again. We’re ordering pizza, what would you like?”

“Hawaiian.” Blaine answered with a small blush.

“Thank you. You can go back to napping if you like. I’ll wake you up when it gets here.” The older boy nodded and dropped back against his side; burying his face into his collarbone. The two cousins shared a look and Sebastian nodded; knowing that it was up to him to order dinner.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” He said softly; grabbing his phone, wallet and hoodie and leaving as quietly as he came in. Beat sighed and rested his cheek on top of Blaine’s head; closing his eyes as he felt exhaustion wash over him. The week had gone so well, and he would never have predicted how it was all going to end. So much was going to change now. There was no way Blaine was going back into his previous dorm, unless Wes decided to move out, and it would be a miracle if he could even get them talking to each other again.

Blaine’s stoic meeting with both Wes and Trent had scared him; he knew that the older boy had buried everything, just to get through it without having a breakdown, and Blaine’s admission about the cracks and the ‘sticky tape’ had put him on edge.

He wondered if he would be enough to see Blaine through his senior year, and he reckoned he probably wouldn’t be, but he’d give it a damn good go.

* * *

“I’m still struggling with what happened last night.” Ethan whispered into the darkness. “Grant said they found him in a _cupboard_.” Evan sighed and moved over to the Sophomore’s bed; sitting, crossed legged in front of Ethan, who was leaning against his headboard.

“When my sister get’s overwhelmed, she finds the smallest space she can crawl into and stays there until she feels safe.” He said softly. “The feeling of being protected on all sides, helps to calm her down. With what Blaine has been through, it’s no wonder he wanted that protection.”

“You really understand him.”

“I understand the emotions behind what he does.” Evan replied. “And only because of the parallels to my sister. Katie has outbursts, and she can easily get overwhelmed with things that you and I wouldn’t have an issue with. Blaine has been through something traumatic, and you don’t know what that is going to do to a person. He has tics, have you ever noticed?”

“No.”

“He pulls his hair when he’s frustrated, he taps on the table or bounces his leg when he has something, he needs to say but doesn’t know how to say it. He clenches his fists if he’s scared or nervous, and he paces a lot.”

“How do you know this?” Ethan asked with wide eyes.

“I’m observant.” The younger boy replied with a shrug. “And after having my suspicions raised about him; I decided to watch Blaine more than I do anyone else. I know what it’s like to be in danger of triggering someone, and I needed to know what to do or say to put him at ease if we ever interacted. It’s just something I’ve grown used to doing.”

“Can you teach me? About Blaine, I mean. I want to be able to help him.”

“I can try and tell you everything I’ve picked up on, but to fully understand you’re going to really need to talk to either Blaine himself, or Wes and Trent.”

“I can’t believe what went down last night.” Ethan said; shaking his head. “Wes has stressed again and again, how careful we have to be around him, and yet he himself has blundered into more scraps with Blaine than anyone else. How can he claim to know him best, if he keeps making mistakes like this?”

“The reason for these mistakes is simple.” Evan said gently. “Wes, Trent; in fact; all the seniors; still see Blaine as he was when he first came here. I don’t, and neither does Beat’s cousin. I have come to know him these last couple of weeks, but I can promise you that he will be a far cry from the person he was when he first came here. To me, Blaine isn’t a victim. To me; Blaine is a kind, talented person, who has things that upset him or stress him out easily. To me; Blaine is someone who is confident, but still worries about what others think of him. I see him as the person he is today, whereas the seniors still see him as the person he was before.”

“He fought well last night; you both did.” Evan could hear the question in his roommate’s voice, and he decided to come clean.

“Blaine knew I boxed.” He said with a sigh. “He knew that I could potentially be challenged. We spoke about it last week, when the Fight Club was brought up. By doing what we did last night; he’s given me a valid excuse not to fight again. I knew what he wanted, and I just set up the circumstances for him to get it.”

“You manipulated him.”

“Or allowed him to manipulate _me_.” Evan snapped; unimpressed by his roommate’s insinuation. “The situation I set up, in no way hurt him, and if anything, it will be one less thing for him to stress about.”

“Trent would have given Beat a talking to last night as well.”

“And Beat would have told him where to go.” Evan replied back quickly. “Beat can more than handle his roommate on his own.”

“Should I be telling _you_ off for fighting?” Ethan raised an eyebrow and felt the corner of his mouth rise up into a smirk.

“Only if you want me to break my promise to Blaine and kick your ass at the next meet.” Evan shot back with a grin, before sobering up. “Besides, telling people off for last night has landed us in a bad enough situation as it is.”

* * *

He was exhausted. Beat had looked after him all day, and now he and his cousin were feeding him pizza, but all he wanted to do was to curl up and sleep for a week. He felt like he’d been wrung out; the emotions that he’d buried down having been squeezed out of him, like water out of a dishcloth. He felt his mind drift back to Kurt, and again wondered if he was okay.

He hadn’t meant to think about Kurt last night, but at the same time he’d not been able to control where his thoughts had taken him; and down the dark path of memories that had come with the sight of blood; his mind had managed to convince him that it was _Kurt_ who was bleeding and in danger. He wondered what McKinley was like. All of Kurt’s friends had seemed nice, and _genuine_ , even if Santana slightly intimidated him, and Rachel was a little too ambitious for his taste. He’d been accepted into their friendship circle, simply because he was friends with Kurt, and they had all accepted him without question or bias, even after the Berry house party disaster.

He wondered whether he’d be accepted into their glee club, if he ever transferred. Would Finn and Puck invite him to watch the game on weekends? Would Santana and Quinn drag him out shopping? Would Mercedes forgive him for what went down with Kurt?

He felt like he wanted to know.

Was that so wrong?

If not, then why did he feel guilty?

“Devon?” Beat said softly and he tore his attention away from his barely touched pizza. “Are you okay?”

“Tired.” He replied; rubbing his eyes. It wasn’t even a lie. He was _exhausted_.

“Why don’t I box this back up and you can have it tomorrow?” Sebastian asked kindly; gesturing to his food. “Although, I’m not sure I can trust anyone who has pineapple on pizza.” It was a lame attempt at a friendly joke, but he appreciated the effort and he nodded his acceptance, the other boy taking his box and shoving it into the small drink’s fridge in his dorm.

“I should get back to Trent before he comes looking.” Beat said guiltily. “Will you be all right here?”

“I’ll be fine Prince.” Blaine replied; already half asleep. “Go be with your roommate.” It didn’t escape any of them that Blaine had once more avoided using Trent’s name, and Beat wondered, not for the first time, if this was a situation that could be fixed. It certainly was one that they’d not been in before. Even during Blaine’s worst days, he’d always been able to trust Wes and Trent to look after him, and now that trust was broken; Beat wasn’t sure whether there was anything they could do to win it back.

“See you in the morning then.” He said softly; leaning over to give him a hug. “If Stan snores too loudly, just kick him in the ankles. It usually works for me.”

“Out Shortcake.” Sebastian deadpanned; pointing at the door. “Before I revoke my hospitality and bar you access to your boy toy here.” Blaine blushed at that and both cousins smiled at the sight of the flustered boy.

“See you in the morning Prince. Thank you for today.”

“Any time, you know that.” Beat replied; giving him one last squeeze before heading for the door; stopping to give a disgusted Sebastian a hug, and getting pushed off with a half-amused growl.

“Into bed then Killer.” Sebastian said with a grin. “And no funny business.”

* * *

“How is he?” Was the first thing out of Trent’s mouth when Beat stepped into their dorm.

“Jesus Trent, give me a minute to get sorted.” Was the younger boy’s snappish reply as he gathered his sleepwear and headed into the bathroom. “And I’m _fine_ thanks for asking.” He called back out before slamming the door. Trent sighed and ran a hand down his face. He asked himself the same question everyone had over the last twenty-four hours; how had everything become so fucked up?

How had he gone from being one of Blaine’s closest friends, to the younger boy not even being able to look him in the eye? He’d tried so hard to do what was best for him, and still everything had gone to shit. The guys didn’t call him the Godfather for nothing; he and Wes had practically orchestrated Blaine’s recovery; from research into coping techniques for anxiety disorders, to making sure Blaine had no reason to stress over his education. He’d been an integral part of the whole process, and now it felt like he had been shut out, abruptly and without warning.

He looked up from his lap as his roommate reappeared and it was clear that Beat was exhausted. He’d been up most of the previous night; watching over Blaine with Sebastian, and had then spent all day with them both, no doubt doing what was usually his and Wes’s job.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I know that you’re not fine, and I know that I should be worrying about you too, but…”

“But Blaine comes first.” Beat replied with a nod. “Because Blaine has _always_ come first, and always _will_. It’s okay to care Trent, but when it turns as toxic as it has, then you need to ask yourself whether you need to take a step backwards; preferably _several_ steps in this case.”

“Blaine is my _friend_.” Trent growled; his anger rising at being denied access to the younger boy for the best part of the day. “And I care about him more than you can imagine. You have no idea what I have sacrificed to get to this point, and I won’t let what’s happened ruin that. I won’t let _you_ ruin that. Or Sebastian for that matter.”

“Then you need to work out what it is you want from him.” Beat snapped back. “Because from what it sounds like, he’s been patching up his own sanity for the sake of trying to be strong for the lot of you. You have all told him how brilliant he is, and so he’s been striving to prove you all right, and at the cost of his emotions and in part; his _mind_. You haven’t wanted him to be honest, you’ve wanted him to be _okay_ , and it shows how little you actually know about the profession you say you want to go into, when your patient has come out of the other end worse off.”

Beat couldn’t stay here to be lectured to for the rest of the night, and so he gathered up his duvet and pillows and stalked out of the dorm; heading back to Blaine and Sebastian’s room, planning on spending the night on the camp bed.

Trent couldn’t have replied even if Beat had given him the chance. The younger boy’s angry words were ringing in his ears, and he realised, for the first time, that _he_ might have been the one to fuck everything up between them. If Beat was right, and Blaine _had_ been patching his sanity up for the sake of them, then it meant that he had done more damage than the attack or the surgery combined.

He had fucked everything up.

* * *

Wes frowned when there was a knock at the door, and he fought his way out of the self-imposed prison of sheets to answer it; ending up with his arms full of Trent. He didn’t even try to calm his friend down, and instead led him over to his bed; laying him down and crawling in at the side of him; wrapping his arms around him to offer the only comfort he knew how to deliver safely.

Words and empty promises just weren’t enough anymore.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter for this book, not including the small epilogue I've written. I'll post the last chapter and the epilogue tonight, as well as the first two chapters of the second book; Reset. Depending on how they are received I may write an alternative sequel, under the same name, but as a separate edition, that way you guys can follow which ever story you like, kind of like a choose your own adventure thing. It would mean that each book may take longer to update, but I'm bursting with ideas on where this story could go after the last chapter of this book. 
> 
> Any thoughts would be most welcome, especially on the next couple of chapters of this, and the first couple of Reset.
> 
> Enough monologing; enjoy the chapter!

“Tell me about Blaine.” Trent swallowed and shook his head, tears already gathering in his eyes. He’d not been able to stop at school after what had happened the previous day, so he’d rolled out of Wes’s bed, early in the morning and driven home, to the one person who had the slightest chance of helping him. “Trent.” His mother said softly; reaching out for his hands. “I can’t help if I don’t know the whole story. I know you’re trying to protect your friends, but you came here for my help. _Let_ me help.”

“He punched Wes.” Trent whispered. “On Friday night. Wes was angry at him and had been shouting at him for a while, and he just snapped.”

“Start from the very beginning.” Mary said softly, sliding the cookie jar over the kitchen island, towards her son. “Tell me what happened to him.” Trent took a few seconds to try and work out what his mother was asking of him, before deciding to take her words literally and start from as far back as he could.

“Blaine was gay bashed at his old high school. He’d gone to a dance with another boy, and they were jumped in the car park as they waited to be picked up. He had his head bashed in with a baseball bat, and he was stabbed several times. He suffered a broken ankle, breaks to all of his fingers, severe head trauma; resulting in surgery, and severe blood loss from the stab wounds. There may or may not have been broken ribs too, but he can’t remember, and by the time he woke up they were healed.”

“That was the attack you were both talking about the other week.” Trent nodded; taking a cookie to dip into his coffee. “Is that why he’s at Dalton?” He nodded again.

“He had to repeat his freshman year, because he spent so much of it in a coma. He’s got a brilliant mind though mum, and I’ve been working with him on the junior material so that he can go into his senior year after the summer.”

“So, go back to him coming to school.”

“He was terrified of everything. He had anxiety problems, panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks… He had the whole lot mum. Even if you hadn’t taught me what to look for, I’d still know that he has PTSD; and the worst thing about it, is that his parents refused him treatment. They told him that it was his own fault for getting beaten, that if he hadn’t been gay, then he would have been safe. They petitioned to the courts and got him classed as incapable, or dangerous or something like that. I don’t really get that side of things, you’d probably be better talking to Uncle Chris, but they basically said that he couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth, and that his surgery caused severe brain damage. Enough that, any statements we make about them on his behalf, could be thrown out because of his supposed ‘mental incapacity’.”

“Okay, slow down sweetheart.” Mary soothed when she saw that he was starting to get worked up. It had taken her an hour to calm him down in the first place and it was obvious that the hold he had on his emotions was tentative at best. “So, Blaine came to school and had all of these problems, and you and Wesley have been looking after him.”

“Don’t be mad.” He whispered. “I know that we should have asked for help, but I thought we could handle it, that _I_ could handle it, and things were starting to get a lot better. He was only getting nightmares every so often, and we’d managed to get a handle on his anxiety and panic attacks. His confidence was growing, and he was doing really well. Then a few weeks ago, everything fell apart.”

“What happened?”

“One of the juniors, Kurt Hummel; he told Blaine that he was jealous about all of the solos, and that he was hogging the limelight from the rest of them.”

“And, does he? Hog the limelight?”

“Not intentionally.” Trent aid; shaking his head. “The council decide who gets to solo, and Blaine is the strongest voice on the team, and puts more work in than anyone else as he does a lot of stuff behind the scenes that the guys don’t see. The thing is mum, is Blaine can be completely oblivious to things like that; he finds it hard to read people or understand emotions, and no one _ever_ comes forward and tells him because it’s obvious how much he enjoys performing He _breathes_ music mum. He can connect to a song in ways the rest of us could only dream about. He is truly something spectacular to watch. Then Kurt came along and Blaine trusted him, more than that, I think he thought he was in love with the guy; but Hummel hurt him really badly, and without warning.”

“Am I to take it that Wesley had words?”

“He asked Kurt to forward any more complaints to the council, but Hummel went off at Blaine instead. He was shouting at him in the dining hall in the middle of breakfast, and he said some really horrible things; bringing up the fact that he was repeating a year, and that he was only there because his parents have money. Kurt’s dad works a blue-collar job, and he’s only there because his dad and step-mom used the money for their honeymoon to send him. He was getting bullied at his old high school, and because of that; I think all of us thought that if someone would be able to connect to Blaine, it would have been him; but he caused a huge meltdown and I only managed to get Blaine out of there by practically carrying him through the halls.”

“That must have been hard for you to witness.” Mary said gently.

“The slow deterioration of Blaine’s mental health? It was one of the saddest and most frustrating things I’ve ever had to watch. Trent admitted in a small voice. “The worst thing about it was, that he was in such a state of happy bliss, and he couldn’t even see how much Kurt was affecting him. The guy was always pointing out his curls, or his clothes, or the fact that he’s been a little pale recently and so he started caking gel into his hair, and even going as far as to replace half his wardrobe in a bid to make Kurt happy, but he was in such a good mood that none of us wanted to broach the subject with him, even though it was clearly toxic.”

“And, how has the outcome of what happened make you all feel? A little more protective than usual maybe? I imagine the anxiety attack wasn’t easy for you to go through.”

“It’s nothing that I haven’t seen before.” Her son replied with a shrug. “But, we’re here to talk about Blaine, not me.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t _actually_ be here at all darling. If this were solely about Blaine, then you would have gone to Charles; instead, you are stress eating my baking and trying to drown yourself in your father’s favourite coffee.” Trent guiltily put down his fifth cookie and had the good grace to look abashed. “This was always bigger than your friend Trent. This has always been more than just about Blaine. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you, and everything you have achieved. Your father and I are very lucky to have you.”

“But I’ve screwed up mom.” Trent whispered. “I’ve done more damage to Blaine than the attack ever did.”

“Tell me the rest of the story then, so that I can understand.”

“After what happened with Kurt, things started to spiral downwards. He took so many steps backwards; his anxiety came back, and so did his nightmares. There’s been more nights where he’s had nightmares, that there have been where he hasn’t. We were trying to help him, trying to get him to see how strong he has been, and we told him we were proud of him, and that he would be okay. But he’s been papering over the cracks to try and please us, thinking that we needed him to be strong and okay, rather than honest and not. He’s been hiding symptoms to try and live up to the image he thinks we’ve created of him.”

“Have you? Created an image?”

“No.” Trent replied; shaking his head. “Blaine is the strongest person I’ve ever met, bar none. He’s incredibly intelligent, his grasp on music is beyond most of our understanding, and he’s very hard-working. But the best thing about him is how kind he is. He’s selfless to the point where it can be detrimental to him, he’s honest and open, and he has no idea that he wears his heart on his sleeve for all of us to see. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, and I know that he doesn’t have the ability to truly hate.”

“So, _do_ you think he needs protecting?” Mary asked; seeing where this conversation was going. “Do you think it’s your duty to keep him safe and happy?”

“He isn’t equipped to handle the real world mum. Not yet.”

“But you have just told me how strong he is. Surely if he’s strong, then he shouldn’t need wrapping in bubble wrap Trent. There are some lessons which we have to learn by ourselves, and you’re learning one of them right now.”

“Which is?”

“You can’t save everyone.” Trent felt himself choking up at that and Mary’s heart ached for the look of utter devastation on her son’s face.”

“I can save _him_.” He choked out. “I _have_ to.”

“No sweetheart, you _don’t_. I know this is going to be hard to hear, but you have no duty to him, other than the one of friendship. It isn’t your job to rebuild him, that is something that should have been left to the adults, and there’s somethings he has to be able to do himself. If he’s as strong and as smart as you have told me, then I have no doubts that Blaine will be just fine.”

“You mean; provided he survives the summer?” Trent spat out bitterly. “He doesn’t _have_ any adults. Wes’s dad has had his head stuck in the sand for the last two years, and you and dad are only just learning about it all.”

“We’re working on it darling, but you have to give us time. And in the meanwhile, you and Wes and quite possibly, many of the others, need to take a few steps back and let him have some breathing space. If he’s admitting to someone about not being in a good place, then that is actually a positive sign; he’s admitting to _himself_ that he is struggling, and that is always the first step. All you need to do is be there for him when he’s eventually ready to ask for help.”

“He couldn’t even look me in the eye mom.” Mary leaned forward on her stool; wrapping her son into a hug as he broke back down into tears.

“He just needs time sweetheart.” She said softly; rubbing the back of his head with her hand. “These things don’t just resolve overnight. You have to be patient.” She heard him sniff and felt him nod his head against her shoulder; hoping that this wouldn’t be a step too far for her son.

Trent had always been sensitive to those around him. He’d been a quiet baby, and that softness had followed him through his childhood to provide her with a boy who she was so incredibly proud of. A son who was kind, considerate and held a quiet and steady strength that was always there, ready to bolster those around him. He’d always been the first to hold out the hand of friendship; no matter how many times that hand had been slapped away, and it had gotten him into situations he didn’t always have the capacity to deal with.

It was clear to her that he’d seen Blaine as someone who badly needed a friend; as someone who was a little broken, and needed love and support to be able to move on in the world. He’d gotten himself in deeply and was so emotionally involved, that the mere thought of a spat between them had him crying into her shoulder and blaming himself for all of Blaine’s problems, when the truth of it; told a very different story.

“You have to remember how Blaine was when you first met.” She said soothingly; still massaging the back of his head with her fingers. “And look at where he is now. He’s been able to come so far, in what is relatively a very short space of time, and that is down to the friends he’s had around him. You say that you have messed up, when in actual fact, you have done more for him than any adult has ever done. You have helped get him where he is today Trent, but Blaine also has some of work to do himself. You can’t be there for every step.”

“It’s going to feel so empty without him there.” Trent whispered.

“I know sweetheart. But you have to hold on to the fact that you have done so much good, that he doesn’t need you in the same way as he once did. I have found myself waiting and watching the clock, for when patients of mine, haven’t needed their usual appointment, and then had to remind myself that they aren’t coming. It’s okay to mourn that loss; you just need to accept that your relationship is going to change. I have no doubts that you will still be very close friends, but you have given him everything you have been capable of giving. There are just some things you _can’t_ provide. They have to come from him.”

“I’m so scared that he’s not going to make it. That Eddie is going to have to make that phone call to tell us bad news. I’m scared that he’s going to drop out of school, and go back to his parents. Parents that are planning on sending him to one of those camps, to try and ‘ _train_ ’ the gay out of him. How many stories have we heard? How many of your patients are survivors of those kinds of places? He won’t be able to handle it mum, it _will_ break him.” Mary shushed him gently; tightening her hold on him as he purged his deepest fears.

 _This_ was why she knew that it was more than about Blaine. Her son had struggled with his own identity for as long as she could remember, and she knew that he’d been terrified of being sent away. He had known logically, that they both would accept him and love him, but fear was never logical, and the taunts and bullying he’d experienced in his younger years had left a mark on him; no matter how much he tried to deny it.

Her heart broke for her boy as his heart broke for his friend, and she wished she had the answers her son wanted to hear.

* * *

“Why is Trent home?” David asked as he closed the front door and toed off his shoes. “Is everything alright?”

“He’s upstairs asleep.” Mary replied softly; taking her husband’s bag and leading him through to the kitchen. “I’ve phoned Dalton and he’s having a mental health day tomorrow. He’s staying home with me.”

“What happened?”

“Blaine lashed out at Wesley. From what I can make out Wesley had been angry with him, and had shouted at him for a while, and he snapped.”

“And that has to do with Trent because?” Mary shot a look at her husband, who had the good grace to look abashed at his own stupidity. “Because everything to do with the Anderson kid, has to do with Trent.” He said with a sigh; slumping down onto one of the kitchen stools.

“I actually think it’s a little deeper than that.” She said softly; pouring a mug of coffee for him and sitting down opposite. “I think he might be projecting somewhat. He brought up conversion therapy again.”

“He’s not been bullied again, is he?” David growled. “Because if he is; I’ll be going to talk to Charles first thing in the morning.”

“No, he’s not being bullied. Blaine has told them that his parents are looking into sending him away during the summer.”

“You know, the more I hear about the Andersons, the less I like them.”

“I know, but if his concerns are valid then you really _do_ need to talk to Chris again.”

“He is doing everything he can, but the kid’s file is huge. It says he’s a danger to those around him, and that his mental capacity is diminished because of a head injury. It paints him as a psych patient or a delinquent. I don’t think either of us can honestly say that the boy is either of those things.”

“If we can get him away from his parents, then I seriously believe we need to think about what happens to him afterwards.” Mary said softly; shooting a meaningful look at her husband. David understood almost immediately, and tried to run through the possible ramifications of what she was proposing. The first thing he was worried about; naturally was his own son.

“Would Trent be happy with that?”

“I think it would make him _very_ happy. More than that, it will go towards lessening some of his own insecurities about going to college. He is worried that Blaine isn’t going to manage through next year, and I can tell that he’s extremely reluctant to leave him.”

“Do you think he’s in too deep with the kid?”

“I think he’s done exactly what we would have expected him to do. Do I think it’s detrimental to either of them? I honestly can’t say at this point, but I _do_ know that they’re connected, and will stay connected for a very long time. I would go as far as to say that their own happiness depends on one another. It is possible that Wesley also falls into the same category, but with the details I have, I can’t be entirely sure at this point.”

“You do know what it would mean for us, as a family.” David stated rather than asked. His wife wasn’t stupid, and it was clear this wasn’t a new thought for her either. He knew that she tended to dwell on things before saying them out loud, he had no problems believing that she had been planning this ever since they’d sat in Charles’s office.

“Blaine needs a good, strong family unit to help him through the next twelve months. We _are_ that unit David. We’ve raised a magnificent son together, a son we can both be proud of, and I think we could do a lot of good for this boy.”

“We would need to see if it’s even possible before we approach either of them with this. I don’t want it leading to more heartbreak.”

“Agreed.”


	40. Breaking Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter guys, but not the end of the story, stay tuned for the epilogue and the sequel!

Whilst Trent had been wrapped in his mother’s arms; Wes had been alone for most of the day; wrapped in his quilt and feeling numb to the world around him. He felt like shit, and probably looked like it too. He had said that he would hold Thad responsible if anything went wrong on Friday night; but instead, it had been him that had fucked everything up. The famous Montgomery temper had overtaken everything else, and brought about a cataclysmic shift in power. Beat and Sebastian had taken their queen hostage, and the rest of them were now just pawns in what had become the most painful game of chess he had ever played.

They had tried to build Blaine a court, and instead built him a prison. Only god knew what was going through Blaine’s mind right now, and he was terrified at where the younger boy’s thoughts could potentially lead him.

He felt frozen and still as the world around him moved on. He could hear footsteps outside his door as boys returned to the dorms, he could see the sun, setting outside his window, and yet he couldn’t move. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten either, which probably should have started alarm bells ringing, but he was numb to it all. The door to his dorm opened and it barely registered, until the quilts were lifted off of him and Thad forcibly sat him up.

“Get in the shower.” Thad ordered; pointing at the bathroom door. “You’ve wallowed for long enough and now it’s time to stop beating yourself up. So, go and sort yourself out, and David and I will order the pizza. Trent’s not coming back until tomorrow night, so until then it is being left to me to make sure that you don’t starve yourself half to death.”

“Leave me alone.” He muttered; laying back down and burying his head under his pillow. He heard Thad growl, and the other boy snatched the rest of his bedding from him; including both pillows; leaving him in the middle of his bed, in just a pair of jogging bottoms.

“I won’t tell you again before I drag you in there myself. Get in the shower Montgomery.” He glared at the other boy but hauled himself off the bed and towards the bathroom; deciding that it was better just to follow orders.

“Is he up?” David asked; stepping into the dorm and closing the door.

“He’s in the shower.” Thad replied. “I’m going to put his bedding in the wash, can you sort dinner out and get the windows cracked open?” David nodded and the two of them went to work.

* * *

“Thank you for today Anderson.” Logan said; holding his hand out to shake as the rest of the Warblers filed out. “No one expected to get a practice in this weekend, after what went down on Friday night.”

“Thank Sebastian.” Blaine replied with a tight smile. “He was the one who sorted everything out.”

“Thanks, then Smythe.” The boy said; nodding at his fellow Junior. “It’ll be nice to see more of you around next year.” Sebastian nodded his appreciation and surreptitiously placed his hand on the small of Blaine’s back; offering comfort to the younger boy, who was visibly exhausted.

“Are you okay?” He asked; receiving a nod in return. In truth; Blaine had no idea how he felt. His head was a mess, and his thoughts kept turning to Kurt more than they were worrying about what had happened. He didn’t know why he couldn’t get the younger boy’s face out of his head; but it was driving him to distraction.

Maybe, it was because, despite everything; Kurt was stable, and predictable. He had a routine for everything, and he would never hesitate to tell Blaine when he messed it up. He had been honest whilst still caring about him; despite his many flaws and faults; and he’d found himself getting drawn to the boy in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. He knew that he’d completely messed up the situation between them with his stupid breakdown and the subsequent fallout, but he hoped that they could reconnect as friends, without Wes or Trent in the way to tell him he was doing the wrong thing.

He didn’t know why the others didn’t see Kurt in the same way as he did. Sure, he could be a little judgemental and a bit of a diva at times; but he was fun to be around, and they both liked the same things; even if he had to put the homework in, in order for them to have a proper conversation about Vogue, or Broadway. Kurt was so well read on those things, and he admired his passion for it; and wanted to share it with him; so that he might be as happy in his own ambitions.

“What are we having for dinner then?” Sebastian asked; when it was just the three of them left in the commons.

“I just want to go to bed.” Blaine replied tiredly. “I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m so tired.” Beat moved forwards and took hold of his hand; nodding to Sebastian in agreement with Blaine. He needed sleep far more than he needed food right now.

“Well at least you’re not going to subject me to ordering pineapple on pizza again Killer. That was a painful experience I have no desire to repeat.” A ghost of a smile passed over Blaine’s face at that and both cousins considered it a victory. They headed up the stairs; towards the first floor of dorms, but Blaine stopped before they could head down the corridor to Sebastian’s room.

“I need my uniform for tomorrow.” He said softly; glancing up at the stairs. “I’ll catch you both up.”

“Let me come with you.” Beat said; worriedly.

“No, it’s okay.” Blaine replied with a shake of his head. “Honestly, I’ll be fine. This is something I should really do before tomorrow anyway.” He pulled away from them both and headed up another floor; feeling nerves flutter in his stomach as he headed towards Wes’s dorm.

* * *

“Where’s Trent?” Was the first thing Wes asked when he stepped out of the bathroom. They had held each other all the way through the night; but his friend had practically fled from his dorm that morning, and he’d seen neither hide nor hair of him since.

“At home.” David replied. “He texted Thad this morning. He won’t be here tomorrow either. His mother is making him stay home for the day.” Wes nodded and sunk down onto his bed; wondering if his father would allow him the same courtesy. He’d not seen his mother in over a fortnight; and he could have done with talking to her about what had happened. He was still officially grounded though, and would be until the following Monday. “How are you holding up?”

“Truthfully?” He asked; raising an eyebrow. “I feel like shit.” There was a knock at the door and David moved to answer it; assuming that it was Thad returning from ordering dinner.

“Blaine!” He said in surprise, when he saw the younger boy on the other side of the door. Blaine smiled nervously at him; his eyes flicking to where Wes was sitting on the edge of his bed; his eyes wide and ringed in dark circles.

“I just need to grab some things for tomorrow.” He said softly. “I’m sorry I interrupted; I can come back in the morning.”

“You didn’t interrupt.” David said quickly; not wanting to lose the chance for Wes to be able to talk to his now former roommate. “We were just waiting on Thad with dinner. You could join us if you like.”

“I’m going to bed.” Blaine replied with a shake of his head. “We had a practice and I’m kind of tired.” He fixed his eyes on the floor as his cheeks coloured and his toes curled up in his shoes; a tic he thought he’d long grown out of, and that had been reserved for when he was too ashamed to tap his fingers or bounce his leg.

“You had Warbler practice without us?” Blaine’s cheeks darkened even further and he nodded.

“I just want to get my stuff. Please?” David stopped himself from sighing and moved back from the door; admitting Blaine into the room. He watched as the younger boy practically flinched away from Wes and gathered his bag and his uniform; silence hanging over all three of them as he went about his business.

Wes looked as though he desperately wanted to reach out to him, but didn’t know how without scaring him off; and Blaine avoided all eye contact with either of them. His movements were hurried as he stuffed a few things into a backpack and before they knew it, he was heading back towards the door.

“I’m back!” Thad called; stepping into the room and colliding with Blaine; who took a split second to regain his balance before practically fleeing out of the room and down the corridor; his steps thumping as he sprinted towards the stairs in a blind panic. “Was that Blaine?” Thad asked with wide eyes; once he’d regained composure.

“Yes, you idiot!” David snapped. “And you scared him half to death.”

“But, why was he here?”

“Because he wanted to grab some of his stuff.” Wes whispered; brokenly. “Because he can’t stand to be around me, so he has to live a whole floor away with practical strangers.”

* * *

Blaine had no idea what he was doing when he headed downstairs and kept going. All he knew was that for the first time in his life; Dalton was the last place he wanted to be. He headed out to his car and fished out the set of keys he’d swiped from his desk as he’d pretended to pack some books away. He got in and threw his backpack onto the passenger seat; taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves.

He’d promised Wes he wouldn’t drive whilst in this state, but he’d broken that many promises over the last few days that he thought that one more wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like he planned on coming back anytime soon; and as he put his car into drive, and headed towards Lima; it felt as though he was breaking free from something.

Finally, he could breathe.


	41. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first sequel for this story will be called; Reset, The Blue Edition. 
> 
> It's not the original direction I wanted this fic to go in, but it was a plot bunny that wouldn't go away, so I went with it. If you are after a more traditional, or indeed satisfying sequel, then Reset; The Green Edition will also start going up at some point this week. I know it's an ambitious plan to have two separate fics on the go, especially when they are both immediately following a fic like this, but I'm hoping to be able to update both of them at least once or twice a week. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me on this fic, it's the first proper, multi chapter piece I've written for this fandom, and I'm overwhelmed at the support you have all given. I just hope that one of the two sequels will live up to the standards I've set myself with this story, and up to your expectations. Thank you everyone.

Burt frowned as a knock on the door, broke through the chatter at the dinner table. He shot a look at both Kurt and Finn, who just raised eyebrows at him; their faces both pictures of innocence. He sighed and got up from his seat to answer the door, and his own eyebrows were raised when he saw the small boy on his doorstep; shivering slightly from the cool evening breeze, and his lack of a sweater.

“Blaine.” He greeted. “How can I help?”

“I’m sorry Mr Hummel, but is Kurt there?”

“Come in kid.” He said; standing aside to let Blaine into the house. “We were just having dinner.”

“I can come back later.”

“No need, come and join us. You look like you haven’t had a decent meal for a while, and Carol makes an excellent pot roast.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” Burt knew that something had happened; by the way Blaine had his arms crossed over his stomach; in a bid to appear small and non-threatening. (As if it was possible for him to be threatening in the first place. The small, dark haired boy had the intimidation level of a puppy.) He was in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, and looked as far removed from the put together boy he’d met a few weeks ago, as it was possible to be. “Is everything okay kid? Shouldn’t you be at Dalton?”

“I needed to see Kurt.” Blaine replied quietly.

“At six in the evening?”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out; shaking his head; his eyes blown wide. “I can come back.”

“Hey, I’m not kicking you out.” Burt said sternly; sitting him down on the stairs. “I just want to make sure you’re doing okay. You look tired.”

“I’m fine Mr Hummel.” Blaine replied. “As soon as I talk to Kurt, I’ll be out of your way.”

“Hey now, none of that.” He said gently. “We agreed you were having dinner. Come in and sit down.” And so, Blaine followed him through to the dining room, and was sat down next to Carol; Kurt looking at him in confusion. A small shake of his head told the younger boy that he would explain later, and he found himself involuntarily relaxing into the warm atmosphere that was the Hudmel’s Sunday night dinner.


End file.
